It was just before noon on a Saturday when the line at the register, for once, was short. A no brainer I chose the staffed lane instead of the self-checkout. It went superfast and I hold my phone already at the card reader when the cashier called over to a coworker, loud enough for me to hear: “Sorry, can’t help you. I’m only here in body today.”
Then keep it to yourself! That was my first thought. I’d just paid good money for my groceries, and here was the person selling them, letting the whole aisle know she’d rather be anywhere else. Wow. How thoughtful. Does she realize service doesn’t stop at the card reader? It reaches as far as the customer can see and hear. Next time I’ll head straight for the self-checkout. At least a machine never acts like it would rather be somewhere else.
Sure, I get it. On a day this gorgeous, who wants to be stuck at a register? She’d rather be out with friends, barbecuing down by the river or hiking somewhere in the mountains. Or maybe she’s got a sick daughter at home and barely slept. We’re all human.
At work, we’re professionals too. That’s how I see it. It matters most on the days that crawl by like molasses, when your mood has all the charm of a shriveled stick of jerky. We’ve all been there. That’s exactly when it counts. If it helps, go talk it out with your manager or a coworker. Protecting your headspace matters. But shouting your bad mood across the supermarket? That’s not even bush league.
Customers don’t expect fireworks with every trip to the store. Least of all at the checkout. They don’t want the fake, forced, over the top friendliness either. Just attention. Brief, but real. Undivided. No more, no less. That’s enough. It only asks that you show up with your mind, not just your body.
Warm regards, Ralph
