Now that I've had time to think about it, I would change the writing at the bottom and make it "The ability to see people as customers paying for a service no matter how fed up you are when they appear at your check-out."
I know - I've said this before: I think I do almost all the work in the supermarket. I collect the trolley, wheel it round, fill it with goods, wheel it to the check-out, unload the goods, re-load the goods on the other side of the till into my bags, wheel the trolley out to my car and load the bags. Back at the house, I unload the bags and load the shopping into fridge, cupboard and freezer.
The supermarket gets the goods to the shop and provides someone to scan them and take my money. They also get a whacking profit for their shareholders.
Today the shop assistant was having a rare blether with someone she knew in front of me. While they chatted - it was fine: I'm retired and have all the time in the world - I put one of those wee divider thingies at her end of the belt and started unloading the trolley. Stopping the belt meant I could load my shopping straight from the trolley without walking back and forward. (My arthritic knee was bloody sore this morning.) But of course, when she had done chatting, the assistant lifted the divider thingy and the belt shot towards her. She at once started scanning and putting my shopping to her right into that wee space provided for loading your goods. A huge pile of shopping soon sat on her right while I was still emptying the trolley at the other end of the belt.
I think I said 'Stop the belt' 4 times before she heard me and did it. We looked at each other. 'Okay', I said. 'Who's packing?'
She said: 'Whit?'
'I'm over here loading the shopping on the belt', said I. 'So who's packing at your end? You're running out of space there.'
She looked at the pile of shopping and then looked around. 'There isn't anybody to do the packing.'
'Well', said I. 'It's gonna be either you or me. If it's you, here are my bags. If it's me, you can just sit there for a couple of minutes till I finish emptying the trolley and then I'll start packing.'
By now, a supervisor-type person was hovering. 'Is there a problem?'
'Not if you're here to pack,' I said. She looked a bit put out. But by then I had finished emptying the trolley and was starting to pack the stuff piled up at the other side of the till.
I think I was about halfway through packing when the assistant said: 'Do you have a Nectar card?' She had done her bit, you see. The shopping was now all on my side of the till and she wanted to get on to the money bit of the 'service.' I ignored her and went on packing. She said it again. I stopped and looked at her. In my best teacher voice I said: 'I'm going to finish packing. Then I'll deal with you.'
The supervisor reappeared. I ignored her as well. I finished packing and handed over my Nectar card, money-off voucher and double points voucher. I asked for cash-back. Put my debit card in the machine. Got my cash-back and stowed it in my purse, put my Nectar card away, took the new vouchers and my receipt and got ready to move away. I realised the supervisor was still there. 'Is there a problem?' I asked. And she said:
'Thank you for shopping at Sainsbury's.'
I wish I'd nutted her. It would have been worth a few weeks in Cornton Vale just to smash her face in.
The trouble with working in retail is it's just like working in a school: it's spoiled by the people you have to deal with.
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