"Thank you sir, see you around."
The procedure was always the same. But that was just the way he liked it.
"Hi, how can I help you today?"
Greet the customer, establish rapport. Swipe and bag anywhere from a small stick of lip balm to a full cart of groceries including the "Bottom Of Baskart" that needed to be checked every time they carried that much. Key in the four or five digit codes for produce. Double the heavier bags, ask customers if they wanted to stuff their reusable bags. And remind them that the plastic bag ban was just a few months away except for produce bags, etc.
"That'll be $41.37."
Some of them swiped their cards and entered their PIN right away, others wrote checks or paid in cash. In the former case he had to kindly remind them when they asked if their stuff went through, just so he didn't overcharge them or anything. If they didn't have their store card, then he could always offer one for free.
Either way, an order was an order. There were a few grumpy old folks, but nothing that ever really got out of hand. After that, give their receipt, thank by last name if it was printed on it, explain gas rewards or other information, and if they didn't want someone to help them carry out, bid them goodbye. And he did sometimes forget their change, but was definitely reminded to pass it to them with a little apology.
Though he did take care exercise caution around the occasional creepy homeless guy. Seriously, I fucking swear one of them's gonna try to take me out back and molest me.
At 9 bucks an hour before taxes and dues for just reading off the company script, Carlos Lazaro couldn't complain. In his company uniform, he blended right in, with nobody deliberately trying to piss him off (or intimidate him into selling wine at a discount, he was still quite genuinely nervous over that). The staff didn't know him from school, which was also a big plus, though he tried to stay out of their conversations or politely decline. It wasn't like was a registered sex offender, but he always figured the less people got to know him the better.
Why he didn't apply that outside the store was really none of his business. As far as double lives went, there were plenty of worse ways to go about it. And the only thing he really bemoaned about his job was not having enough hours to go around now that the November-December peak season was pretty much done.
Contemplation aside, he was still slated to keep going for another hour or so till his break, so there were customers to be had.
"I can help you over here!" he began with an almost genuinely cheery smile, as he waved over to the first customer he could spot by the aisles.
No Waiting On Checkstand Three
Enter The Laz
No Waiting On Checkstand Three
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Lars had been standing in that aisle for five minutes. At least it thought it was five minutes. Then again time was relative, so no matter how long it was to someone else it would be five minutes to him. That sounded pretentious, though. Plus, wouldn't existing on the same plane as the other person make it the same? Sure they didn't sense it the same, but that doesn't make the effects of time different. Right?
No, he couldn't do this. He had a schedule to stick to, and shit to pick up. Looking at the grocery list written on his arm in black ink he made sure he had everything.
Sour cream and onion chips, pineapple soda, a pound of red apples, a pound of flour, and a pound of coffee w/filter. It was written down his arm in his mothers cursive writing. Most people would be surprised to learn she supported Lars' habit, but, as she said,
"What works, works." and left it at that years ago. As for why she felt it necessary to write it herself, Lars was still confused. Still, they needed (well, "needed") some things, and Lars had some christmas money left over from his grandparents. So he volunteered to pick them up, and his parents promised repayment on their next payday.
Anyways, all the items were in the basket. So he needed to find a check out lane, and get to the bus. Hopefully he hadn't waisted too much time on metaphysics, or he'd miss the bus again. He heard a voice offering help, and Lars walked over towards it. The kid looked familiar, but Lars couldn't place him.
He smiled as he placed his items for they checker to scan, and asked,
"How're you doing?"
No, he couldn't do this. He had a schedule to stick to, and shit to pick up. Looking at the grocery list written on his arm in black ink he made sure he had everything.
Sour cream and onion chips, pineapple soda, a pound of red apples, a pound of flour, and a pound of coffee w/filter. It was written down his arm in his mothers cursive writing. Most people would be surprised to learn she supported Lars' habit, but, as she said,
"What works, works." and left it at that years ago. As for why she felt it necessary to write it herself, Lars was still confused. Still, they needed (well, "needed") some things, and Lars had some christmas money left over from his grandparents. So he volunteered to pick them up, and his parents promised repayment on their next payday.
Anyways, all the items were in the basket. So he needed to find a check out lane, and get to the bus. Hopefully he hadn't waisted too much time on metaphysics, or he'd miss the bus again. He heard a voice offering help, and Lars walked over towards it. The kid looked familiar, but Lars couldn't place him.
He smiled as he placed his items for they checker to scan, and asked,
"How're you doing?"
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"How're you doing?"
Oh jesus.
Okay, so maybe there wasn't a 100% chance that his career would be fully free of classmate intervention. At least Lars Nylund - famous for his forearm scriptures - wasn't one of the jocks or mean girls. Not that he had any particular chainsmoker insults to give...nor was this exactly a ripe opportunity to do so.
"Oh, hi L-"
He stopped himself. No way was he going to say Lars' name out loud even though he was required by store law to wear a nametag with "CARLOS" stamped on it. Then again, now that he was probably exposed, there was nothing stopping everyone else from coming on down here and seeking him out.
At least he had the manager and his immediate supervisors on his side in case of harassment.
"Not too bad, you?" he began, a clenched jaw visible underneath his scripted smile as he started to take the items. He tried to avoid eye contact as he got to typing the digit code for the apples, though it wasn't hard to notice the sweat starting to bead on his forehead.
Oh jesus.
Okay, so maybe there wasn't a 100% chance that his career would be fully free of classmate intervention. At least Lars Nylund - famous for his forearm scriptures - wasn't one of the jocks or mean girls. Not that he had any particular chainsmoker insults to give...nor was this exactly a ripe opportunity to do so.
"Oh, hi L-"
He stopped himself. No way was he going to say Lars' name out loud even though he was required by store law to wear a nametag with "CARLOS" stamped on it. Then again, now that he was probably exposed, there was nothing stopping everyone else from coming on down here and seeking him out.
At least he had the manager and his immediate supervisors on his side in case of harassment.
"Not too bad, you?" he began, a clenched jaw visible underneath his scripted smile as he started to take the items. He tried to avoid eye contact as he got to typing the digit code for the apples, though it wasn't hard to notice the sweat starting to bead on his forehead.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
"Oh, I'm cool." Lars replied, and missed his first greeting. Hoping to avoid conversation, Lars decided to let the man do his job. Getting his own wallet out to retrieve, what he hoped, enough money that would cover the food.
Three ten dollar bills, and a five. This should cover it, right? He wondered, looking in his wallet as if it would reveal the answer. Maybe if he shook it, the message would be,
"Ask again later." No, money would fly everywhere and this guy would have a funny story to tell his coworkers and friends.
Plus, the guy looked like he had a hard day. So the sooner Lars was out of his hair, the better. Lars looked up, and began to hand the money over when he recognized who his checker was.
Carlos Lazaro. Lars had never had a personal run in with the guy, but he's heard of him. Seen him around school.
Okay. Maybe if I act like I still don't know him, then I can just get out of here.
"So, how much is this gonna be?" Lars asked, raising his eyebrows in inquiry.
Three ten dollar bills, and a five. This should cover it, right? He wondered, looking in his wallet as if it would reveal the answer. Maybe if he shook it, the message would be,
"Ask again later." No, money would fly everywhere and this guy would have a funny story to tell his coworkers and friends.
Plus, the guy looked like he had a hard day. So the sooner Lars was out of his hair, the better. Lars looked up, and began to hand the money over when he recognized who his checker was.
Carlos Lazaro. Lars had never had a personal run in with the guy, but he's heard of him. Seen him around school.
Okay. Maybe if I act like I still don't know him, then I can just get out of here.
"So, how much is this gonna be?" Lars asked, raising his eyebrows in inquiry.
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"Twelve fourty five," Carlos replied, his jaw slowly loosening.
He hadn't had quite a hard day. This wasn't exactly Black Wednesday (because nobody Black Fridays a grocery store). The presence of one of his own classmates was a bit of an unpleasant surprise though, to say the least. Somewhere between that one guy that asked to buy alcohol on a voucher or the one grouch that couldn't read the damn coupons.
He tried not to make eye contact as he swiped and typed each of the items on the scanner and placed them into the bag. But his arms looked like they were trembling. As much as he could turn to the manager in case he got harassed, there would be hell to pay in the other direction. If he was going to get something out of this before hell was paid to him outside of work, he'd have to be subtle.
Before he took the cash though, 'subtle' hit him like a slippery fish.
"By the way...did you find everything you need?"
Of course. Use one of the store script lines. Maybe he'd want a certain brand. Carlos could certainly excuse himself to get the stuff from the cigarette cabinet.
He hadn't had quite a hard day. This wasn't exactly Black Wednesday (because nobody Black Fridays a grocery store). The presence of one of his own classmates was a bit of an unpleasant surprise though, to say the least. Somewhere between that one guy that asked to buy alcohol on a voucher or the one grouch that couldn't read the damn coupons.
He tried not to make eye contact as he swiped and typed each of the items on the scanner and placed them into the bag. But his arms looked like they were trembling. As much as he could turn to the manager in case he got harassed, there would be hell to pay in the other direction. If he was going to get something out of this before hell was paid to him outside of work, he'd have to be subtle.
Before he took the cash though, 'subtle' hit him like a slippery fish.
"By the way...did you find everything you need?"
Of course. Use one of the store script lines. Maybe he'd want a certain brand. Carlos could certainly excuse himself to get the stuff from the cigarette cabinet.
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Lars had been sure he had everything. Absolutely sure.
Then Carlos asked for confirmation, and just like that Lars was questioning himself. Maybe his mother had forgot an item, and told him to remember it. Or cigarettes? No, he just bought a pack the other day. Sure it was half empty, but he wanted this to be short as possible. Frowning slightly, he thought if there was anything else. He could afford to get something else, maybe a candy bar?
Lars looked at the candy rack examining the selection of sweets, nothing he really liked. Did one of his parents ask for one? Well, if they did, too bad. He thought reluctantly. He spent enough time wondering, didn't he? Could one ever wonder too much?
Shaking his head out of that tangent, Lars then separated a ten and the five, and gave it to Carlos.
"No, this is everything."
((Edit 'cause I fail at maths forever))
Then Carlos asked for confirmation, and just like that Lars was questioning himself. Maybe his mother had forgot an item, and told him to remember it. Or cigarettes? No, he just bought a pack the other day. Sure it was half empty, but he wanted this to be short as possible. Frowning slightly, he thought if there was anything else. He could afford to get something else, maybe a candy bar?
Lars looked at the candy rack examining the selection of sweets, nothing he really liked. Did one of his parents ask for one? Well, if they did, too bad. He thought reluctantly. He spent enough time wondering, didn't he? Could one ever wonder too much?
Shaking his head out of that tangent, Lars then separated a ten and the five, and gave it to Carlos.
"No, this is everything."
((Edit 'cause I fail at maths forever))
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"Okay, out of fifteen..." Carlos continued, taking the money and keying in the usual buttons.
Ka-ching! Well, more like a ka-chunk. These newfangled electronic registers didn't have bells anymore, though by the look of how they'd yellowed out they were probably older than he was. What was new were those definitely new-fangled coin dispensers to take care of what wasn't whole dollars.
"That'll be two-fifty-five change, Mr..." Carlos then checked the receipt, after plucking out two singles. Standard store procedure went that he had to address customers by their last name whenever their name got printed.
Which it wasn't. Good thing he knew the guy personally, right?
"...Lars. Take care now!" One last smile for the road as he handed Lars the bag of stuff.
Ka-ching! Well, more like a ka-chunk. These newfangled electronic registers didn't have bells anymore, though by the look of how they'd yellowed out they were probably older than he was. What was new were those definitely new-fangled coin dispensers to take care of what wasn't whole dollars.
"That'll be two-fifty-five change, Mr..." Carlos then checked the receipt, after plucking out two singles. Standard store procedure went that he had to address customers by their last name whenever their name got printed.
Which it wasn't. Good thing he knew the guy personally, right?
"...Lars. Take care now!" One last smile for the road as he handed Lars the bag of stuff.
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Shifting in his feet while Carlos was running the transaction Lars wondered about the tales he was told. Were they really true, or just some mean spirited rumors that high schoolers made up? They could have been all over the spectrum. Didn't someone say the truth worked like a spectrum? Lars tried to flip through the pages of his mind, but no names were popping up. This was gonna bother him until he found it in a book or forgot again.
He looked up as Carlos handed him his bag and money, telling him to take care using his name.
Startled the Carlos knew his name, Lars sheepishly smiled as he took his change and bag. Maybe he isn't as bad as I thought. He shouldn't have taken people's word from mouth, but sometimes they were right. But what if he offended Carlos? Shit, should I say something?
Not wanting to be late for the bus Lars settled for a smile and said,
"Thanks, Carlos. See you at school!" Before taking the bag, money, and receipt. He walked out of the grocery store shifting through the contents of the bag.
((Lars Nylund continued in Set Lasers to Fun))
He looked up as Carlos handed him his bag and money, telling him to take care using his name.
Startled the Carlos knew his name, Lars sheepishly smiled as he took his change and bag. Maybe he isn't as bad as I thought. He shouldn't have taken people's word from mouth, but sometimes they were right. But what if he offended Carlos? Shit, should I say something?
Not wanting to be late for the bus Lars settled for a smile and said,
"Thanks, Carlos. See you at school!" Before taking the bag, money, and receipt. He walked out of the grocery store shifting through the contents of the bag.
((Lars Nylund continued in Set Lasers to Fun))
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ViolentMedic
- Posts: 813
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 7:53 am
(Naomi Bell: Start)
Naomi was watching her little sister that day. Normally the nanny could take care of it, but it was her day off and Naomi volunteered to look after Maria. She was alright with it. As far as six-year-olds went, Maria wasn't that hard to handle.
The only problem was that she liked to chew on things. Naomi had faced this problem before. Such as when Maria went through her drawers and ate every piece of lip-gloss she owned. And some of the tables still had bite marks in them from when she was younger.
Compared to that, chewing on the wrapping of a bag of chips was normal. But it was still problematic, because 1) it was a bag of chips almost as big as Maria herself and 2) it was a bag of chips that belonged to the store they were currently standing in.
"Maria, stop chewing on that. It doesn't belong to you," Naomi said sternly. She tried to tug the bag away from Maria. "Give me the bag. We're not here for chips, we're getting what we need for dinner. Maria, please give me the bag."
Maria had strong teeth. She wouldn't let go of the bag. Naomi frowned and tugged harder. Still nothing. Naomi tried pulling just a little bit more--
Then there was an explosion. And suddenly chicken-flavoured, crinkled chips were raining from the sky. Maria, terrified by the sudden explosion, had tumbled backwards and was now sitting on the ground, looking shell-shocked and clinging to the remnants of the torn bag of chips.
Naomi looked around at the mess, now frowning a lot deeper. Well, that was going to make this trip a lot more... awkward. Not that she couldn't smooth it over. At least Maria hadn't set a fire or something that would have given an impression of delinquency.
"M'sorry," Maria mumbled.
"So you should be." Naomi's voice stayed level as she brushed loose chips off the groceries she'd already picked out. Though she was irritated, she'd practiced for too long at staying friendly at all times to let a little thing like this bother her enough to shatter the illusion. "Now, Maria. I know it was an accident, but you're going to come with me and we're going to find someone who works here. And you're going to apologise, alright?"
"But I apologised already."
"Yes, you apologised to me. But I don't work here. You have to apologise to whoever has to help clean this up, okay?"
"Okay."
Naomi grabbed Maria's hand and half-dragged her towards the register, carrying her groceries with the other hand. She arrived just in time to see another customer leave. The boy working at the register looked familiar. Carlos Lazaro. A boy from school that she'd never spoken to, but that she knew in passing. While she tried to speak with as many people as possible, she'd avoided Carlos on purpose because he was apparently rather vitriolic towards anyone who tried to talk to him.
Hrm. These hadn't been the sorts of circumstances that Naomi had wanted to talk to him in. But it couldn't be helped. Naomi walked up to the register, ignorant of the fact that there were chicken-flavoured chips still stuck in her hair.
"Excuse me, Carlos. My little sister accidentally tore a bag of chips over there." Naomi let go of Maria's hand to point back at the aisle. "She would like to apologise. And I'll, of course, pay for both the product she ruined and the inconvenience. I hope it's not too much trouble."
Naomi was watching her little sister that day. Normally the nanny could take care of it, but it was her day off and Naomi volunteered to look after Maria. She was alright with it. As far as six-year-olds went, Maria wasn't that hard to handle.
The only problem was that she liked to chew on things. Naomi had faced this problem before. Such as when Maria went through her drawers and ate every piece of lip-gloss she owned. And some of the tables still had bite marks in them from when she was younger.
Compared to that, chewing on the wrapping of a bag of chips was normal. But it was still problematic, because 1) it was a bag of chips almost as big as Maria herself and 2) it was a bag of chips that belonged to the store they were currently standing in.
"Maria, stop chewing on that. It doesn't belong to you," Naomi said sternly. She tried to tug the bag away from Maria. "Give me the bag. We're not here for chips, we're getting what we need for dinner. Maria, please give me the bag."
Maria had strong teeth. She wouldn't let go of the bag. Naomi frowned and tugged harder. Still nothing. Naomi tried pulling just a little bit more--
Then there was an explosion. And suddenly chicken-flavoured, crinkled chips were raining from the sky. Maria, terrified by the sudden explosion, had tumbled backwards and was now sitting on the ground, looking shell-shocked and clinging to the remnants of the torn bag of chips.
Naomi looked around at the mess, now frowning a lot deeper. Well, that was going to make this trip a lot more... awkward. Not that she couldn't smooth it over. At least Maria hadn't set a fire or something that would have given an impression of delinquency.
"M'sorry," Maria mumbled.
"So you should be." Naomi's voice stayed level as she brushed loose chips off the groceries she'd already picked out. Though she was irritated, she'd practiced for too long at staying friendly at all times to let a little thing like this bother her enough to shatter the illusion. "Now, Maria. I know it was an accident, but you're going to come with me and we're going to find someone who works here. And you're going to apologise, alright?"
"But I apologised already."
"Yes, you apologised to me. But I don't work here. You have to apologise to whoever has to help clean this up, okay?"
"Okay."
Naomi grabbed Maria's hand and half-dragged her towards the register, carrying her groceries with the other hand. She arrived just in time to see another customer leave. The boy working at the register looked familiar. Carlos Lazaro. A boy from school that she'd never spoken to, but that she knew in passing. While she tried to speak with as many people as possible, she'd avoided Carlos on purpose because he was apparently rather vitriolic towards anyone who tried to talk to him.
Hrm. These hadn't been the sorts of circumstances that Naomi had wanted to talk to him in. But it couldn't be helped. Naomi walked up to the register, ignorant of the fact that there were chicken-flavoured chips still stuck in her hair.
"Excuse me, Carlos. My little sister accidentally tore a bag of chips over there." Naomi let go of Maria's hand to point back at the aisle. "She would like to apologise. And I'll, of course, pay for both the product she ruined and the inconvenience. I hope it's not too much trouble."
Carlos didn't quite hear the dull explosion, which through sheer coincidence followed-up with the dull thud of the till sliding shut. He handed Lars the bag, money, receipt, and then took a very deep breath as soon as he was sure Lars was out of earshot (which to him could as well have been the moment he turned his back.)
He closed his eyes after inhaling, exhaling and stretching his arms as he turned to face the next customer in line.
"Hi, how can I help-" He cut himself off, having finally put his salesman's smile back on only to find himself staring at yet another classmate as his eyelids opened.
"Excuse me, Carlos. My little sister accidentally tore a bag of chips over there."
Oh jesus. Oh baby.
One classmate visiting him wasn't enough today, the fates had to make it two. Now it was Naomi Bell, with chips in her hair from reasons she was explaining. Little Miss Politics and whoever she was babysitting this month. She was probably more frustrated at the kid for causing the mess, but the hell if he knew. The two were probably as close as they'd ever been for the past few weeks not counting the times they passed in the hallways.
"She would like to apologise. And I'll, of course, pay for both the product she ruined and the inconvenience. I hope it's not too much trouble."
There are worse ways to pose for that photo that'll end your career, babe. Oh, the temptation that he could finally ignite a politician's hot air in front of a hundred strangers that were starting to give their first fucks about election season. And there were so many things he could call her out for right now that would probably end his own career before it even began. Especially with the store's Checker-In-Chief lurking at Checkstand Four.
"Oh, that's no problem," he began, his salesman's smile shaky like the fault under the Cascades. "I'll just...have them clean it up."
Carlos' arm then suddenly darted for the intercom phone that was standard equipment at every checkstand, nearly fumbling the receiver onto the ground. Standard procedure for a dry cleanup was to call the available janitor and have them sweep the damn thing up before someone slipped, fell, and caused an accident that would nullify the company bingo game. It was convoluted, but you had to love the odd freak spawn of corporate bureaucracy for whatever else they took away from "the working man."
"Ja- Jeremiah, dry cleanup on Aisle 2, please, thanks..."
He nearly fumbled the receiver again as he placed it back into its holder.
"Anyway..." The next thing he knew, his head was bowed down in such a way that he was now smiling at the kid she had brought along like he had free candy under the counter.
He bit his lip and returned his gaze to her. If there was one thing he could say he couldn't stand more than encountering classmates at the checkstand - which was moving quickly up his list - it was the sound of a crying child at close proximity.
No. It couldn't be helped.
"People knock things over and...I'm not sure how to go about this..." Carlos stuttered, then finding whatever part of the corporate script he could cling to and belting it out in rapid fire.
"You need any help with anything?"
He closed his eyes after inhaling, exhaling and stretching his arms as he turned to face the next customer in line.
"Hi, how can I help-" He cut himself off, having finally put his salesman's smile back on only to find himself staring at yet another classmate as his eyelids opened.
"Excuse me, Carlos. My little sister accidentally tore a bag of chips over there."
Oh jesus. Oh baby.
One classmate visiting him wasn't enough today, the fates had to make it two. Now it was Naomi Bell, with chips in her hair from reasons she was explaining. Little Miss Politics and whoever she was babysitting this month. She was probably more frustrated at the kid for causing the mess, but the hell if he knew. The two were probably as close as they'd ever been for the past few weeks not counting the times they passed in the hallways.
"She would like to apologise. And I'll, of course, pay for both the product she ruined and the inconvenience. I hope it's not too much trouble."
There are worse ways to pose for that photo that'll end your career, babe. Oh, the temptation that he could finally ignite a politician's hot air in front of a hundred strangers that were starting to give their first fucks about election season. And there were so many things he could call her out for right now that would probably end his own career before it even began. Especially with the store's Checker-In-Chief lurking at Checkstand Four.
"Oh, that's no problem," he began, his salesman's smile shaky like the fault under the Cascades. "I'll just...have them clean it up."
Carlos' arm then suddenly darted for the intercom phone that was standard equipment at every checkstand, nearly fumbling the receiver onto the ground. Standard procedure for a dry cleanup was to call the available janitor and have them sweep the damn thing up before someone slipped, fell, and caused an accident that would nullify the company bingo game. It was convoluted, but you had to love the odd freak spawn of corporate bureaucracy for whatever else they took away from "the working man."
"Ja- Jeremiah, dry cleanup on Aisle 2, please, thanks..."
He nearly fumbled the receiver again as he placed it back into its holder.
"Anyway..." The next thing he knew, his head was bowed down in such a way that he was now smiling at the kid she had brought along like he had free candy under the counter.
He bit his lip and returned his gaze to her. If there was one thing he could say he couldn't stand more than encountering classmates at the checkstand - which was moving quickly up his list - it was the sound of a crying child at close proximity.
No. It couldn't be helped.
"People knock things over and...I'm not sure how to go about this..." Carlos stuttered, then finding whatever part of the corporate script he could cling to and belting it out in rapid fire.
"You need any help with anything?"
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ViolentMedic
- Posts: 813
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 7:53 am
Well, he wasn't being vitriolic yet. Naomi supposed that wasn't allowed when talking to customers. Perhaps he was just consistently in a bad mood at school. Some kids were like that. Either he was just in a bad mood at school or the need to keep up his professionalism was keeping him from saying anything nasty.
Naomi was willing to bet that it was the second one. Or at the very least a mixture of both. Whatever the reason, Naomi was glad he wasn't being nasty. If he'd done something like that in front of her little sister... well, it would have been unpleasant.
But in any case... he just smiled back. Albeit in a way that didn't seem quite genuine to her. She knew fake smiles better than the back of her hand. Of course, that was the default for anyone forced to work a checkout.
He was at least nice enough to smile at Maria as well. It was enough to make Maria, who had been clinging to Naomi's skirt and trying to hide behind her, at least manage a small smile back. Perhaps he wasn't as bad as the rumors foretold. Rumors about bad behaviour were always remembered for longer than rumors about good behaviour. For example, someone saying 'I heard that Roy beat up a guy and then cheated on his girlfriend' caught on much quicker than 'I heard Roy is polite and donates money to charity.' The negatives stood out.
"You need any help with anything?"
"Oh, that's right. I'd like to buy these." Naomi placed the groceries she'd gathered on the counter. Mostly food for a few day's worth of dinners. Because she knew quite well that her parents would probably forget to pick anything up, and ordering in fast food whenever they forgot was both expensive and fattening. Maria needed a better diet than constant Chinese food.
There was also a couple of chocolate bars in there. Because goddammit, Naomi liked spoiling her sister. Even if she made chip packets explode.
As she placed the groceries on the counter, Naomi realised that if Carlos couldn't get snippy at her due to having to act professional and friendly, that would make this the perfect time to at least try a few lines of conversation. Not enough to get a detailed understanding, but still... a bird in the hand is better than two in the bush.
Though, she couldn't really think of much to say, but best to start with the basics.
"So... how has your day been, Carlos?"
Naomi was willing to bet that it was the second one. Or at the very least a mixture of both. Whatever the reason, Naomi was glad he wasn't being nasty. If he'd done something like that in front of her little sister... well, it would have been unpleasant.
But in any case... he just smiled back. Albeit in a way that didn't seem quite genuine to her. She knew fake smiles better than the back of her hand. Of course, that was the default for anyone forced to work a checkout.
He was at least nice enough to smile at Maria as well. It was enough to make Maria, who had been clinging to Naomi's skirt and trying to hide behind her, at least manage a small smile back. Perhaps he wasn't as bad as the rumors foretold. Rumors about bad behaviour were always remembered for longer than rumors about good behaviour. For example, someone saying 'I heard that Roy beat up a guy and then cheated on his girlfriend' caught on much quicker than 'I heard Roy is polite and donates money to charity.' The negatives stood out.
"You need any help with anything?"
"Oh, that's right. I'd like to buy these." Naomi placed the groceries she'd gathered on the counter. Mostly food for a few day's worth of dinners. Because she knew quite well that her parents would probably forget to pick anything up, and ordering in fast food whenever they forgot was both expensive and fattening. Maria needed a better diet than constant Chinese food.
There was also a couple of chocolate bars in there. Because goddammit, Naomi liked spoiling her sister. Even if she made chip packets explode.
As she placed the groceries on the counter, Naomi realised that if Carlos couldn't get snippy at her due to having to act professional and friendly, that would make this the perfect time to at least try a few lines of conversation. Not enough to get a detailed understanding, but still... a bird in the hand is better than two in the bush.
Though, she couldn't really think of much to say, but best to start with the basics.
"So... how has your day been, Carlos?"
Of course the negatives stood out. That's all politicians were really remembered for until long after they were dead before people then realized how much impact whatever good they did had on their lives, often after those were reversed. In the meantime though, it was all about gathering dirt and while Naomi didn't look it, Carlos suspected that was exactly what she was doing.
As for the here and now, the only things that were "standing out" were the groceries she was putting on the table. At least he had that to keep his mind somewhat at ease, as he began passing each item over the scanner or tapping their code into the keyboard.
"So... how has your day been, Carlos?" she then suddenly asked.
And here he was, hoping the conversation wouldn't have gotten past needing help. He knew he had to say something that wouldn't be construed or implied as blackmail even though the fact that she caught him here, dry-handed from repeated exposure to sanitizing gel, was plenty enough material as it was.
"Oh, you know..." he stuttered, "A few unpleasant surprises here and there but nothing too bad."
Not yet. It won't be as unpleasant as going back to school to find everyone knows I work here. On the other hand, surprises weren't technically surprises if he was fully expecting them. Just focus, Carlos. Groceries. And payday tomorrow night. Money. Money is good.
"Did you find everything you need?" he then asked.
The stand-by standard line, hopefully to send her off to get something she would then hopefully come back to some other checker or use the self checkout machine to ring up. But at the pace that he was getting everything through, fumbling some groceries into the bag before placing them on the conveyor belt out, that wasn't very likely.
As for the here and now, the only things that were "standing out" were the groceries she was putting on the table. At least he had that to keep his mind somewhat at ease, as he began passing each item over the scanner or tapping their code into the keyboard.
"So... how has your day been, Carlos?" she then suddenly asked.
And here he was, hoping the conversation wouldn't have gotten past needing help. He knew he had to say something that wouldn't be construed or implied as blackmail even though the fact that she caught him here, dry-handed from repeated exposure to sanitizing gel, was plenty enough material as it was.
"Oh, you know..." he stuttered, "A few unpleasant surprises here and there but nothing too bad."
Not yet. It won't be as unpleasant as going back to school to find everyone knows I work here. On the other hand, surprises weren't technically surprises if he was fully expecting them. Just focus, Carlos. Groceries. And payday tomorrow night. Money. Money is good.
"Did you find everything you need?" he then asked.
The stand-by standard line, hopefully to send her off to get something she would then hopefully come back to some other checker or use the self checkout machine to ring up. But at the pace that he was getting everything through, fumbling some groceries into the bag before placing them on the conveyor belt out, that wasn't very likely.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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ViolentMedic
- Posts: 813
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 7:53 am
Carlos' reply sounded nervous. There was a lot of stuttering. Naomi wasn't quite sure why. Was he that nervous about the chip-filled explosion in aisle 2? No, that didn't seem right. Why would he be nervous about someone else's mess?
In any case, it had been a vague reply, as well as nervous. Like he was hiding something or trying not to say anything incriminating. It was the sort of nervous, shaky reply that Naomi would have given if she was caught doing something extremely embarrassing. Like getting caught fornicating on a pool table in a seedy bar. Not that she would ever end up in a situation like that... but theoretically, if it were to happen... well, it wouldn't be something she could talk her way out of, so she would probably give a vague, nervous answer to any questions.
In any case, Carlos wasn't doing anything as embarrassing as that. He was just working. Working at a checkout wasn't that embarrassing, was it? Well, it was rather plebeian compared to some jobs, but it was to be expected for a teenager.
Maybe voicing that there was nothing wrong with his occupation would make him less nervous. But Naomi wasn't entirely sure that was the problem. For all she knew, he was nervous because he was hiding marijuana under the counter. No, that sounded ridiculous... Best to assume that it was job-related embarrassment. It was the only noticeable cause.
"Did you find everything you need?"
"Yes, that should be everything." Naomi pulled out her wallet. "Do you take cards? I didn't bring enough change. Only realised half an hour ago that we had no food in the fridge." She made to brush some hair out of her face and discovered the chips still lodged in her hair. "Ick." She pulled them out as discreetly as she could manage.
In any case, it had been a vague reply, as well as nervous. Like he was hiding something or trying not to say anything incriminating. It was the sort of nervous, shaky reply that Naomi would have given if she was caught doing something extremely embarrassing. Like getting caught fornicating on a pool table in a seedy bar. Not that she would ever end up in a situation like that... but theoretically, if it were to happen... well, it wouldn't be something she could talk her way out of, so she would probably give a vague, nervous answer to any questions.
In any case, Carlos wasn't doing anything as embarrassing as that. He was just working. Working at a checkout wasn't that embarrassing, was it? Well, it was rather plebeian compared to some jobs, but it was to be expected for a teenager.
Maybe voicing that there was nothing wrong with his occupation would make him less nervous. But Naomi wasn't entirely sure that was the problem. For all she knew, he was nervous because he was hiding marijuana under the counter. No, that sounded ridiculous... Best to assume that it was job-related embarrassment. It was the only noticeable cause.
"Did you find everything you need?"
"Yes, that should be everything." Naomi pulled out her wallet. "Do you take cards? I didn't bring enough change. Only realised half an hour ago that we had no food in the fridge." She made to brush some hair out of her face and discovered the chips still lodged in her hair. "Ick." She pulled them out as discreetly as she could manage.
It wasn't that working at a checkstand was particularly humiliating. In fact for him to have a regular job that paid at his age was a bit of an achievement in this economy and of course, it was money in the bank (or the credit union that was a block closer to his place than the bank) that would mean slightly smaller yet no less crushing college loans.
No, it was the fact that he was being outwardly nice to people that knew him for being what he dubbed "honest." It was the reputation he had to keep up...ironically...
...like every fucking politician whose career ends when they got caught doing something they couldn't.
Fucking fuckass.
And there was the embarrassment. Resigning from his job with some kind of regretful fake message wasn't going to make a damn difference except he would get broke a little quicker when he graduated out of this hellhole. It made his arms shaky again as he deftly maneuvered each of the items into their bags, double-bagging if they were heavy, separating non-edibles from edibles, etc.
"Yes, that should be everything...Do you take cards? I didn't bring enough change. Only realised half an hour ago that we had no food in the fridge."
Carlos gestured at the little pinpad that every supermarket had these days for people that paid by plastic. The procedure varied from franchise to franchise and it nagged Carlos that he had to explain the subtle differences. Hell, at some point he even wished he could have tried those old-fashioned sliders they had for credit cards before he was born. Maneuvering the card into position, with a click and a clack and a-
What the hell. A man could dream. But he couldn't get distracted with it.
He eyed the pinpad, waiting for her to swipe her card while he keyed in the confirmation sequence on his register keyboard. Nothing anywhere near as sophisticated launching a ballistic missile, but still as important to the person needing their groceries paid for and moved out the door as quickly as possible.
Most people today paid with their debit or credit cards. And in case they paid in cash or needed cash back, there was now an automated coin machine right next to the pinpad to dispense the right amount of coin change because people were too lazy to do the damn math to make the number displayed on the register screen. Goddammit, the only thing that didn't make him tear his hear out was the fact that 99.99% of the people he served on a daily basis were complete strangers, including the homeless people and creepy guys that looked like they were gonna take him out back and molest him after work.
It was a slippery slope of thoughts that eventually caused him to mutter a single acronym and a salutation that - despite the economic reality - wasn't exactly what some customers wanted to have called out loud.
"EBT, ma'am?"
Hell, it didn't matter if she pulled out some kind of Unlimited master-credex-visa Black credit card. Paying by the more politically-correct term for foodstamps wasn't exactly something to be proud of.
Welp. There it goes.
No, it was the fact that he was being outwardly nice to people that knew him for being what he dubbed "honest." It was the reputation he had to keep up...ironically...
...like every fucking politician whose career ends when they got caught doing something they couldn't.
Fucking fuckass.
And there was the embarrassment. Resigning from his job with some kind of regretful fake message wasn't going to make a damn difference except he would get broke a little quicker when he graduated out of this hellhole. It made his arms shaky again as he deftly maneuvered each of the items into their bags, double-bagging if they were heavy, separating non-edibles from edibles, etc.
"Yes, that should be everything...Do you take cards? I didn't bring enough change. Only realised half an hour ago that we had no food in the fridge."
Carlos gestured at the little pinpad that every supermarket had these days for people that paid by plastic. The procedure varied from franchise to franchise and it nagged Carlos that he had to explain the subtle differences. Hell, at some point he even wished he could have tried those old-fashioned sliders they had for credit cards before he was born. Maneuvering the card into position, with a click and a clack and a-
What the hell. A man could dream. But he couldn't get distracted with it.
He eyed the pinpad, waiting for her to swipe her card while he keyed in the confirmation sequence on his register keyboard. Nothing anywhere near as sophisticated launching a ballistic missile, but still as important to the person needing their groceries paid for and moved out the door as quickly as possible.
Most people today paid with their debit or credit cards. And in case they paid in cash or needed cash back, there was now an automated coin machine right next to the pinpad to dispense the right amount of coin change because people were too lazy to do the damn math to make the number displayed on the register screen. Goddammit, the only thing that didn't make him tear his hear out was the fact that 99.99% of the people he served on a daily basis were complete strangers, including the homeless people and creepy guys that looked like they were gonna take him out back and molest him after work.
It was a slippery slope of thoughts that eventually caused him to mutter a single acronym and a salutation that - despite the economic reality - wasn't exactly what some customers wanted to have called out loud.
"EBT, ma'am?"
Hell, it didn't matter if she pulled out some kind of Unlimited master-credex-visa Black credit card. Paying by the more politically-correct term for foodstamps wasn't exactly something to be proud of.
Welp. There it goes.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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ViolentMedic
- Posts: 813
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 7:53 am
Naomi felt slightly embarrassed when Carlos gestured at the pinpad that was sitting in plain sight. Of course they took card, what was she thinking?
"Ah, of course. Sorry, I had other things on my mind." Like the chips that persisted in clinging to her carefully washed and straightened hair. She was going to have artificial chicken flavoring in them for a while...
"EBT, ma'am?"
...Excuse me? EBT? ...As in the electronic form of food stamps?
Implying that someone required food stamps might not have annoyed other people too much. They might be a little miffed, but most would probably shrug it off.
Naomi, however, took issue with the two-word question. Partly because of what someone assuming she had to use food stamps implied about the man who provided for her family. Her father may have been so absorbed in his own affairs that he often forgot to buy food (the same with her mother) but he was a good provider and would never have allowed the house to decline into food stamps.
But as well as that... Naomi spent a lot of time on her reputation and appearance. It was a big part of her image. She didn't wear designer clothing or any of the flashy get-up that some of the fashionable girls at school wore, but her clothes were nice and well-made and clearly did not belong to someone who lived off food stamps. To suggest she looked like the sort of person who did, well... to her it was like Carlos had rubbed her stomach and asked when the baby was due.
So, to put it bluntly... Naomi was very offended.
In fact, she was so offended that it was actually showing on her face. She'd gone slightly pink and her eyes had narrowed. If she'd been less trained at concealing negative emotion, her face would have been bright red and blotchy, with enough angry wrinkles to make a night-hag very proud. Even just the pinkness and such made her feel even more embarrassed on top of everything else. She shouldn't look this mad. Especially since he'd probably made the comment innocently and had probably just taken the fact that she was out of food to an exaggerated conclusion...
Considering his reputation for being rude at school, however, Naomi was predisposed to think that he'd meant to offend her.
"Naomi?" Maria tugged on her skirts. "What's an ebbeti?"
"Don't worry about it." Naomi forced her smile back onto her face, although it was significantly colder than it was before. "No. Debit card. Or I'd be a lot more worried about the cost of exploded chip bags."
She swiped her card and typed in her pin number as quick as possible. She was slightly afraid that she was going to start shouting, and that would be... well, unpleasant. For one, she didn't like breaking her friendly facade. And secondly, she didn't want to scare Maria. So as soon as she was able, she grabbed her groceries and turned to go.
"Have a nice day," she said quickly, resisting the urge to call him a 'capon' after it. She was meant to keep herself under control and referring to him as a castrated chicken wouldn't help at all. She grabbed Maria's hand and dragged her out of the store.
She realised halfway that she'd forgotten to get Maria to apologise for breaking the chip packet. She then decided that she didn't care too much.
((Naomi Bell continued in Beauty tarnished))
"Ah, of course. Sorry, I had other things on my mind." Like the chips that persisted in clinging to her carefully washed and straightened hair. She was going to have artificial chicken flavoring in them for a while...
"EBT, ma'am?"
...Excuse me? EBT? ...As in the electronic form of food stamps?
Implying that someone required food stamps might not have annoyed other people too much. They might be a little miffed, but most would probably shrug it off.
Naomi, however, took issue with the two-word question. Partly because of what someone assuming she had to use food stamps implied about the man who provided for her family. Her father may have been so absorbed in his own affairs that he often forgot to buy food (the same with her mother) but he was a good provider and would never have allowed the house to decline into food stamps.
But as well as that... Naomi spent a lot of time on her reputation and appearance. It was a big part of her image. She didn't wear designer clothing or any of the flashy get-up that some of the fashionable girls at school wore, but her clothes were nice and well-made and clearly did not belong to someone who lived off food stamps. To suggest she looked like the sort of person who did, well... to her it was like Carlos had rubbed her stomach and asked when the baby was due.
So, to put it bluntly... Naomi was very offended.
In fact, she was so offended that it was actually showing on her face. She'd gone slightly pink and her eyes had narrowed. If she'd been less trained at concealing negative emotion, her face would have been bright red and blotchy, with enough angry wrinkles to make a night-hag very proud. Even just the pinkness and such made her feel even more embarrassed on top of everything else. She shouldn't look this mad. Especially since he'd probably made the comment innocently and had probably just taken the fact that she was out of food to an exaggerated conclusion...
Considering his reputation for being rude at school, however, Naomi was predisposed to think that he'd meant to offend her.
"Naomi?" Maria tugged on her skirts. "What's an ebbeti?"
"Don't worry about it." Naomi forced her smile back onto her face, although it was significantly colder than it was before. "No. Debit card. Or I'd be a lot more worried about the cost of exploded chip bags."
She swiped her card and typed in her pin number as quick as possible. She was slightly afraid that she was going to start shouting, and that would be... well, unpleasant. For one, she didn't like breaking her friendly facade. And secondly, she didn't want to scare Maria. So as soon as she was able, she grabbed her groceries and turned to go.
"Have a nice day," she said quickly, resisting the urge to call him a 'capon' after it. She was meant to keep herself under control and referring to him as a castrated chicken wouldn't help at all. She grabbed Maria's hand and dragged her out of the store.
She realised halfway that she'd forgotten to get Maria to apologise for breaking the chip packet. She then decided that she didn't care too much.
((Naomi Bell continued in Beauty tarnished))