First, let me confess that I am an unlikely candidate for cashiering at Wal-Mart. In the past, whenever I saw a large conglomerate move into an area, all too often the old downtown local stores gradually went out of business. I always want to support local businesses, so I haven’t appreciated the large corporations that drive them out.

My capitulation began when I was looking for a way to earn a little extra money. It was November, and I knew that many stores hire extra help during the holiday season. My quest began by going to stores where I might enjoy working. One establishment was very appealing. They sold a nice variety of books, cards, and lovely gift choices, and there was the lingering scent of candles in the air. Can you picture such a place? I had a little speech worked out in each store I entered, asking if they were hiring any extra help for the holidays.

Before I had a chance to complete my rehearsed speech in this lovely store, the cashier acted very upset with my question. “This store is closing,” she said. “We are in the process of moving everything to the Laconia store.” 

“So,” I said, “I should apply in Laconia?”

“No,” the cashier replied with anger in her voice. “All of us working in this store are hoping to be employed at the Laconia store.” That took care of that. I couldn’t blame this woman for being upset with me. She was concerned about how many hours she was going to be able to continue to work.

A week went by. There were no calls from any of the stores where I had filled out applications. I was shopping for groceries at the small mall that includes a Wal-Mart. Perhaps, I thought, they aren’t hiring either, but I figured it was worth a try. At the customer service desk, I began my question about holiday employment. The young assistant manager asked if I had ever worked as a cashier. “No,” I said. “However, I have worked in a library, so I am experienced at scanning barcodes.”

“I’d like to hire you right now,” the young man said. “You can’t apply here, however. Wal-Mart’s policy is that everyone has to apply on line.”

I went home and found the website. It took nearly forty-five minutes to fill out the many questions on the application. Only a few days went by before I got a call from the local Wal-Mart asking me to come in for an interview. I discovered a few things I didn’t know about Wal-Mart. I had noticed that quite a few senior citizens work there, and I had assumed that it was because Wal-Mart must only pay a minimum wage. I was wrong. Wal-Mart pays more if you have education beyond high school and a good employment record. That, I discovered, was going to help me. It also makes a difference whether you are a regular employee or temporary help.

My next step was a peculiar requirement that I had never experienced in all my years of working. I had to take a drug test. This felt quite humorous—me—needing to take a drug test. As soon as the tests results arrived at the local Wal-Mart, I received a call to come in for training.

In the same way that the need to take a drug test amused me, some of the training felt like something I would never need to know. I am a senior citizen, and the thought of being sexually harassed struck me funny. However, after thinking it over, I was glad to know that Wal-Mart enforces this policy. Similar policies are in effect for gender and age— lucky me.

After nearly two days of paid training through a computer program, we trainees did shadowing, watching other cashiers do their job. It seemed fairly straightforward. I could certainly do this, I thought, so I agreed to go alone to the ten items or less quick checkout register. One customer checked through—all was well. The second customer handed me a newspaper to check out. I scanned the bar code, she handed me a dollar bill, and I attempted to check the paper out. I punched in $1, but words kept coming up, saying I had done something wrong. What, I didn’t know. The woman was getting upset. She had to catch a bus that would be leaving. The man behind her was getting upset. The people behind him were beginning to realize that this quick check out wasn’t all that quick.

Now, if I could have just handed the woman back fifty cents from the dollar she gave me, all would have been well. However, the machine rules. Either you punch things in exactly right or the cash register drawer won’t open. “I don’t know why this won’t check through,” I said. “Perhaps it is because the item is less than a dollar.”  That even sounded dumb to me.

The irritated man second in line was also heading for this bus that was about to leave. “We are going to miss the bus,” he said. “Check her paper out with my items.”  I did. They checked out just fine.

I attempted to hand the man his sales slip and change, but he refused them and yelled in a nice loud voice so everyone in the store could hear him, “Keep the change. I don’t want it.”  Neither did I, of course. My money draw would be sixty-two cents over if I put it in the register drawer, and I certainly wasn’t going to put it in my pocket.

When it was time for a break, I stopped to tell the assistant manager about my mistake. “Forget about it,” she said. “You need to remember to always punch in total even if there is only one item.” I certainly had learned that lesson.

I made other mistakes—none, however, as embarrassing as my inability to check out a newspaper. Once, the register locked me out. I couldn’t figure out why this happened. It was a very busy day, and there was a long line of people waiting to check out. I had to call for a supervisor. It turned out that I had been working at the same register for more than three hours. This is against the rules. You must take a break. I sent all of the people in line, quite unhappy I might add, to another register and took my break. The first day that I was scheduled to work for more than seven hours, I went for my lunch break. After a half hour, I slid my bar-coded identification tag through the time clock and went back to my register. The phone rang. An assistant manger’s voice asked how long I took for lunch. A half hour, I told him. “You were supposed to take an hour. You will have to check out a half hour earlier than scheduled at the end of the day.” It seemed very odd to be scolded for not taking enough time for lunch. It is obvious that the clock does an efficient job of keeping track of the employees’ time.

Most of my cashiering went along quite smoothly, but, of course, I did make an occasional mistake. The bags really flustered me some days. Those plastic bags have a tendency to want to stick together, and more so, it seemed, if you were trying to hurry.

As an older person, I have already observed the differences in people’s personalities. They certainly existed in the customers I checked out. There are people, it turns out, who will carefully remove a sale sticker from one item and stick it on another item that isn’t on sale. It doesn’t work because the machine rules. It isn’t the sticker that tells the price; it is the barcode. Because you can’t do a thing if the register stops working, I sometimes had to apologize to people who were waiting. If too many people are using debit cards at the same moment in time in area stores, there is a pause while the bank machines catch up. Some people waited calmly for the glitch to end or decided to check out with cash. Others acted as if the cashier—me—were trying to intentionally ruin their day.

I also got to meet the queen of coupons. She had more coupons than seemed reasonable. It took a long time to go through every item that has a buy-one-get-one-free coupon because you have to know the price. Coupons are good. I clip them, too, but this woman seemed to make a carrier out of coupon clipping. She purchased about fifty items—all with coupons of one variety or another.

The Wal-Mart where I was employed is considered small. It is not a super store. However, there are 150 employees. Some people, I discovered, really needed the income. There were older men who had retired and worked a few days a week because they found retirement boring. There was a young woman who usually rode a bike three miles to work. When the roads were full of winter snow and slush, she walked. One day she was totally soaked by the time she got to work because vehicles drove past and splashed the puddles all over her. She never complained, thankful to have her job.

During the days leading up to Christmas, it was difficult to believe there was a downturn in the economy. The number of customers filling the store seemed to tell a different story. An ice storm added to the number of customers when people came flooding in to buy camp stoves, wood pellets, heavy sleeping bags, cans of propane, and all sorts of items to try and keep warm. Some items ran out.

Although I had sometimes purchased things at this store before I worked there, I had quite a bit to learn about Wal-Mart. While applying on line, there was a statement that Wal-Mart offers dental and health insurance. I discovered that “offer” was the operative word. Full-time employees could join a group insurance plan, which, of course, is cheaper than buying private insurance. It was too costly, however, for many employees. I was disappointed to discover that.

On the positive side, the management treats the employees quite fairly. Although people had to ask ahead, management was very willing to arrange hours so that employees could keep appointments, or a parent could attend special events in the life of a child. I noticed signs in the break room offering financial help for anyone who hadn’t finished high school and was willing to study for a GED.

It wasn’t a surprise to find that many people were shopping for items at a bargain price, including prescription drugs. I was sorry when our health insurance company stopped allowing us to buy maintenance drugs at our local pharmacy. We have to buy them through a mail-order company that sends the medications from Texas. Most small family drug stores are gone. Wal-Mart is competing with large-chain pharmacies now and offering very good prices.

Most of the food items sold at this smaller store are nonperishable, but they do sell milk and other dairy products. To my surprise, the cheese, butter, and eggs didn’t come from a long distance away; they were products from Vermont.

A week or so before Christmas, one of the women who began working at the same time as I asked if I had received my notice. I hadn’t. I felt really bad to think that this young woman who really needed the job might be let go two days after Christmas, and I might be kept on. It was just a timing thing. Soon enough, an assistant manager asked me to come to her office when I had a minute. I knew what was coming and so did everyone else, as they watched me walk to the office to be informed that my temporary employment would end two days after Christmas.

That was okay with me. The days leading up to Christmas I worked from 9 A.M. to 6 P.M. and discovered that was a bit too much. This temporary job did help me, though. I paid a dental bill, paid off my credit card, and was able to purchase some extra things for Christmas, including a couple of gifts for myself.

Temporary employees who were physically able and wanted to keep working were kept on to help with a remodeling project. I was thankful for them.

I know more about Wal-mart now—some is good and some not so good. One thing is certain. I will never again criticize a cashier. The job isn’t as simple as it appears.

Nancy Morley has done a wide variety of work in her life, including working on a potato harvester. Most of her previous writing was for specific religious programs. She has worked as a secretary, home health aide, K-8 special education assistant, and as the librarian in the small town of Searsport, Maine.