Let me be frank right from the start: I used to work retail management. I'm not some a-hole from the street trying to be a "Karen" (I despise that term, by the way, because it implies that only blond white females and those identifying as such are bitches).
I'm in Target. It's crowded. It's the holiday season. People are trying to get shit done. I totally understand this. I am one of these trying-to-get-shit-done shoppers. So, I have zero problem with standing in a line for a register. To a point.
I pick a line, not the shortest line, but I don't care because I understand that time has no meaning when Christmas shopping; it's like we've all entered some parallel universe or some plane of Salvador Dali surrealism. I get up close, almost close enough to put my stuff on the belt. I'm NEXT! Yes, next next next next!
The cashier puts on her flashing light. This is never a good sign. The front-line manager comes over, and the cashier says that she needs to run quickly to the bathroom. The manager, a young person, says, "Shut off your light and close down." Then, and this is a FATAL mistake by management who are just standing around chatting with their coworkers within eyesight of customers, the manager walks away and continues her animated conversation and tapping on her cell phone.
"But I have to go to the bathroom," she says.
No kidding, sweetheart. I heard that, and I watched your relief walk away. I shake my head because, hey, time has absolutely no legs at this point. I leave the line I finally managed to conquer, and go get behind another long line for a different cashier.
Here is where the Target management staff could've handled this differently. They could have responded this way:
1. I'll ring for you while you run to the bathroom that is literally twenty feet from the register.
2. Are you going to be quick? Perhaps the next person can unload her carriage while you run over to the door that's right here next to my foot where I am standing.
3. Oh, ma'am, I'm so sorry. Let me ring you up over at Customer Service.
4. Take the next customer and then you can go. Make sure to put up your "closed" sign.
Instead, I get home even later -- Salvador Dali later -- and the cashier is back to her station before I have even unloaded my few items onto the new register in the new line. I get it, I really do. It's retail, and gawd knows we're lucky anyone wants to work these days (although I'm not quite sure what parental or governmental assistance programs these people have managed to locate that I cannot seem to discover).
However, as the recipient of the "Hey, we're kind of lazy assholes working here" treatment, I am not really in the cheerful mood to be that forgiving. Just another reason why online shopping is booming and your local retail stores . . . well . . . they're not, nor do they deserve to be.
