And the Universe Smacks Me Over the Head.... Again

The last couple of days at work have been hell. I wish I was kidding about that fact, but it is unfortunately very true.

On Thursday most of my breaks were late. Not by a few minutes, either. This was anywhere from 30 to 50 minutes late. Frustrating? You better believe it. Friday wasn't much better. In fact, I'd say it was a slagload worse.

It's Friday. I'm on lane 17. I get a customer who brings up a Packers sweatshirt. It's one I've never seen before and it rings up at $27. The customer says it was on a clearance rack and points to a price sticker (a slightly wrinkled sticker, I might add) that reads $5. The tag itself says $23. She wants this thing for the $5 price.

Yes, that's a $22 difference. So, no, I'm not overriding that without an approval. (If I did, a head cashier, department manager or some other member of management would be up my ass like you wouldn't believe. And I don't know about anyone else, but I like being able to have a paycheck to pay my damned bills.) So I call Men's wear. They start looking for something similar. They can't find one. So I walk to Men's wear and show them the stupid thing. They scan it with their Telxon and it comes up $27. So the associates in Men's wear state that we can only sell the damned thing for the price it scans. So I get back to my lane and tell her this; she leaves.

Here's where it gets insanely stupid.
Thieving customer comes back.... with management. Management takes sweatshirt and sells it to thief for $5.

Yeah, I'm pissed. Even worse, management wants to know why I couldn't just override the damn thing, forgetting that if I did, they would be chewing my ass out.

The dull thud you keep hearing? It's just my head slamming into the nearest brick wall. Don't worry, I'm used to it. After a while the pain is quite refreshing, really.

I am now so pissed that I can literally not see straight. I want nothing more than to either scream or strangle something or both. Thankfully, I get sent to break, so my sanity is spared for a few precious moments. But my break is over far too soon and I must return to Idiot Central aka my crappy job.

I am loathe to return to lane 17, so I decide to do a little tidying up first--I take a basket back to the GM doors, I take back some items that were left behind, run and take a quick drink of water, you name it. As I finally make my way back to my prison cell register, I start to think about the past two days. And remembering my track record, I can't help but think I should be finding something amazingly awesome.

All right Primus, I think. It's been a shit couple of days; you seriously owe me and you better pay the hell up!

Not long after this little exchange I discovered that it's never a good idea to snap at a god. They take it pretty seriously. And Primus is no exception.

He paid up all right. Boy, howdy, he paid up.

Not ten minutes later, I get a kid (10 or 12 years old) with a Transformers Optimus Prime book cover and a Voyager-class ROTF Optimus Prime. The book cover scans, but the toy won't. I stop and stare at my register; this seems impossible. We sell Voyagers all the blasted time, so why the heck won't this one scan? Then I look at the UPC code; it's 13 numbers long. I look at the back of the box and there is no tech spec, only an abbreviated bio that happens to be in 12 different languages.

In my hands is a European Optimus Prime. It's all I can do not to freak.

I tell the kid that we have a small problem with this one, tuck EuroPrime behind my check reader and race to Toys. After a frantic few moments of searching I manage to find a domestic Optimus. I run back, ring up the domestic Voyager and do everything in my power to keep EuroPrime in my sights. I was giddy, to put it mildly; the only European toy I've ever seen was a Universe Acid Storm that one of our friends found in the same manner and sold to us.

Ten minutes later, I overheard a page for Toys. A cashier two aisles away has a second EuroPrime. How did I find this out? A customer in my lane told me; she said that the other cashier was having trouble with "that exact same toy" and pointed to the Prime that was still occupying space by the check reader.

Two European toys. In my store. It seemed impossible, but here it was. I could feel the blood rushing to my head, I was so excited.

I immediately cashed out her order, shut my lane down and raced over to register 21. "I know what to do!" I cried. "I can fix this!" I race to Toys yet again, find another domestic Prime and quickly make another swap.

Two European ROTF Optimus Primes. Both now resting safely at my register. I am nearly dancing with delight. I can barely wait for lunch so I can call Prime and tell him of my discovery.

When I do, he asks if we have anymore Euro toys (like, did someone in China screw up an entire Voyager-class case?). As I go back and check, I find a lone Bumblebee Battle Charger. He was simply sitting atop a Bumblebee roleplay cannon, as if he was waiting for me to come by and take him home. Of course, I did.

The rest of the day was a lot better. I got to take over GM self checks, which is my favorite place to be.... other than Toys, that is. And once I was done for the day, Prime and I went and took in another viewing of Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen at a local second chance theater-cafe. Two and a half hours of kicking back in a plush-comfy chair while eating some really kickass pizza? Yes, please.

So yeah, I'd say Primus delivered that day. Maybe I should be a bit more grateful from now on; if he can drop stuff like that my way, I'd hate to see him pissed.

--Weasel, "Yeah, that could be pretty bad now that I think about it."