Dying a Little Inside

I consider myself to be a doormat very nice person. I can deal with a lot as a cashier and still be nice or fake it.

When people come through a main line with a cart of groceries I have no problem. Why would I? Keeps me occupied and employed. That's my job, to be polite, ring up your stuff and take your money (and usually make mistakes along the way.)

When a person comes through a line that was made for small loads, it makes me sad inside. But I'm pretty cheerful about it all. After all, almost everyone is nice about it, and there's nothing I can do about it.

And then there are the ones who come through and I can't figure out what the heck is going on. It goes a little something like this, at least this is in my mind:

"Oh hello! Oh big cart of groceries. Well ok, no big deal."

"...Ok, so you're just going to set stuff on my counter and wait. Well, I'll just get a cart and load stuff in myself. No biggie."

"...Guys, standing there will not help get done any quicker. I only have a bag rack with three things of bags and a counter space of maybe a foot-and-a-half."

"...Um...counter space getting low. What can be done to remedy this?"

".........Piling stuff higher and higher is not the solution."

".... Thank you for telling me that you want all the cold stuff in one bag and milk in another. You know, when it's all buried and I can't get to it...Oh, and all the bags are full again..."

"...Glaring at me for being slow does not boost self-esteem...and neither does it get this done any faster..."

"FINALLY done. Yay payment!"

"...the friggen card reader is acting up again. Isn't it?"

"...And there's a line of 5 other people. *sigh*"

D:

I do like my job, though. And I'm happy this doesn't happen very often