Before I even went through the automatic doors to leave my job Saturday, I could feel the tears forming in my eyes. One sat on my cheek and waited for one of the managers to ask if I was done for the day to roll down my face. Or at least, that is how it seemed.
It wasn’t the first time that I had been cursed out by a customer. I am sure it wouldn’t be the last time, but it annoyed my soul that the customer’s mistake was viewed as mine. I can’t say that I have done everything perfectly at work. I’d be lying. I am still new and I will make mistakes. But there is no way I could have known that a customer would use the wrong credit card. That wasn’t my fault. It was his, but I couldn’t say that. I had to hold my tongue.
Even when he shushed me from talking after he asked “what just happened?” Even when he barked at me telling me “for tax purposes, you can’t use this card for regular purchases.” Even when he didn’t let me try to rectify the situation and just return the purchase even though I told him what I was ringing up and why. Even when my boss asked me what happened, I couldn’t tell her that he stupidly used his flex card, which is designated for prescriptions, on a non-prescription purchase.
Perhaps the situation annoyed me because I had to keep holding my tongue when I really didn’t want to like my sister said. Perhaps it annoyed me that I was going through so much for a job that is convenient rather than desired. And perhaps it annoyed me because despite the fact that I am trying to be so grateful for this job, it doesn’t seem to be paying off especially when things like this keep happening.
It wasn’t until I got home that I realized why it really upset me. As I curled up on my couch trying to quietly cry so I wouldn’t wake the boyfriend, it dawned on me that I don’t like the way people talk to me. I would like to say the way they “think” they can talk to me because I am behind a cash register, but the truth is, they can and they know it and that pisses me off.
I know myself well enough to know it’s a pride issue. I am a college graduate working behind a cash register and being talked down to bruises my ego. I can admit that. But nobody, regardless of their educational background, should be spoken to how that man spoke to me. It’s belittling, unfair, ugly and just plain nasty.
For as long as I can remember, I have been considered as “nice” and I always struggled with it. I wanted to be viewed as more. Someone more dimensional than just…nice. I’d take anything over that description or so I thought.
Saturday, that man and another angry customer, taught me that is not the case.
I’d rather be considered nice over nasty any day.
