Burlington Coat Factory - Part 3
Making my way towards the registers I could see Joe talking to an employee and another customer at customer service, which was only about 20 feet from the only open lane. If I hurried, I just might be able to pay and slink out the door while he was preoccupied. I stared at my feet as I hustled along, trying not to pay attention to anything except Joe's location on my way to the front. I couldn't see if their was anyone in line until I maneuvered around a display of beard/mustache trimmers and passed a bigger display of fall sweaters. I was watching Joe out of the corner of my eye, and noticed every so often he would look up from his customer in my direction. I looked at the display of trimmers thoughtfully, and threw one in my cart, trying to act normal. "Please God, help me out here" I thought as I moved around the sweaters into Lane #1. Mercifully, lane #1 was empty besides two short, hispanic women working behind the counter. They were engaged in normal conversation, folding clothes that I suppose were going to be released back into the jungle which is Burlington Coat Factory. "I owe you one", I muttered to God.
I approached the lovely cashier and said "Hi, how are ya", like I am so accustomed to do to everyone I run into. Without looking up, she said something that could have been a mumbled "Hi" or "Hoy". My cashier did not look particularly enthused or motivated to be serving me today, and this was made clear as she continued to fold more laundry as I stood there awkwardly. After another 15 seconds, she must have felt my eyes burning a hole into her, so she put down the shirt she was tending to and slowly walked over to the hand-held scanner. "If you don't move any faster, I will hurdle this counter and choke you", I thought. She picked up my trimmer and scanned it, followed by my pants and turned them over three or four times, searching for the barcode. Not finding it, she turned to her hispanic counterpart and asked, "Can you get Joe? I don't think this has a scan code...". My chest tightened as I heard these words, and I could feel the sweat starting to form on my brow again. "Ooop! Never mind. Got it." The urge to throttle my middle aged cashier was growing stronger. Finally, the woman grabbed my sports coat and rang it in. A puzzled look appeared on her face, and she tried to ring in the coat again. Same confused face. "HEY JOE! COME'RE!!!" she yelled behind her. Immediately, Joe broke off his conversation with the other customer and headed over to help my cashier. "This is how it ends", I thought.
"This jacket comes with pants, but the pants are gone..." my cashier explained to her manager. "Oh, I don't really care. I just want the jacket" I said, trying to think of an excuse to get out the door. "Nonsense" said Joe. "You're paying for them anyway, you might get your moneys worth. Follow me." Before I had time to respond, Joe was walking back to the sports coat section and I was following. "I see you've picked yourself up a beard trimmer. Those things are total crap. I wouldnt buy it if I were you" he said without turning around. "Oh...?" I managed to say nervously. "You drop 'em once, they break. You know what I use? Dog clippers." "Really? Like at the groomers?" I asked. "Exactly. And I would know, because I have my own hair salon in Hudson. No one even knows the difference, and they last 10 times as long" Joe gushed. "Well, thanks. You just saved me twenty bucks" I chuckled. "No problem, hun" he retorted. We made more small talk on our walk, which made me relax a bit. Maybe I was making this into a bigger deal than it really was. I could just play this off as if this was a normal day in the life. Reaching the section where I had found my jacket, Joe found the pants that I haphazardly discarded in between another pair of suits. "Here we go. This is a great suit. It seems you may have a good sense of style" he joked. I laughed, and we walked back to the register, making small talk about his hair salon and about nothing in particular. During this walk, I calmed myself down to almost baseline, and realized I'm probably the one that is making this experience awkward.
We arrived back at Lane #1, and Joe handed the suit pants to the lovely cashier. She was about to stuff them in a bag with the rest of my purchases, until Joe said, "Oh wait, we didnt even check to see what size the pants were!" I knew they were too big, but I let Joe take them out and check the size. "36x32? Those are probably too small for you. Well, I'm just guessing, but maybe I'll find out later!" he said as he looked me over. I could see that my cashier looked surprised by her managers comment by the way she raised her eyebrows and how her mouth dropped open. Surprising even myself, I burst out laughing and said, "Hey, maybe. You never know!" Joe joined me in my laugh, and slapped me on the back. The cashiers face never changed as she handed me my bag, and said nothing. I wonder what her problem was?
I thanked the both of them and turned to leave but before I could, Joe reached into his pocket and held out something for me. "Here, take my card. Incase you....you know.....ever need a hair cut." I smiled at Joe, took the card and thanked him again. I turned and walked out of Burlington Coat Factory feeling strangely better about myself, but remembering why I hate leaving the house on my day off.
I approached the lovely cashier and said "Hi, how are ya", like I am so accustomed to do to everyone I run into. Without looking up, she said something that could have been a mumbled "Hi" or "Hoy". My cashier did not look particularly enthused or motivated to be serving me today, and this was made clear as she continued to fold more laundry as I stood there awkwardly. After another 15 seconds, she must have felt my eyes burning a hole into her, so she put down the shirt she was tending to and slowly walked over to the hand-held scanner. "If you don't move any faster, I will hurdle this counter and choke you", I thought. She picked up my trimmer and scanned it, followed by my pants and turned them over three or four times, searching for the barcode. Not finding it, she turned to her hispanic counterpart and asked, "Can you get Joe? I don't think this has a scan code...". My chest tightened as I heard these words, and I could feel the sweat starting to form on my brow again. "Ooop! Never mind. Got it." The urge to throttle my middle aged cashier was growing stronger. Finally, the woman grabbed my sports coat and rang it in. A puzzled look appeared on her face, and she tried to ring in the coat again. Same confused face. "HEY JOE! COME'RE!!!" she yelled behind her. Immediately, Joe broke off his conversation with the other customer and headed over to help my cashier. "This is how it ends", I thought.
"This jacket comes with pants, but the pants are gone..." my cashier explained to her manager. "Oh, I don't really care. I just want the jacket" I said, trying to think of an excuse to get out the door. "Nonsense" said Joe. "You're paying for them anyway, you might get your moneys worth. Follow me." Before I had time to respond, Joe was walking back to the sports coat section and I was following. "I see you've picked yourself up a beard trimmer. Those things are total crap. I wouldnt buy it if I were you" he said without turning around. "Oh...?" I managed to say nervously. "You drop 'em once, they break. You know what I use? Dog clippers." "Really? Like at the groomers?" I asked. "Exactly. And I would know, because I have my own hair salon in Hudson. No one even knows the difference, and they last 10 times as long" Joe gushed. "Well, thanks. You just saved me twenty bucks" I chuckled. "No problem, hun" he retorted. We made more small talk on our walk, which made me relax a bit. Maybe I was making this into a bigger deal than it really was. I could just play this off as if this was a normal day in the life. Reaching the section where I had found my jacket, Joe found the pants that I haphazardly discarded in between another pair of suits. "Here we go. This is a great suit. It seems you may have a good sense of style" he joked. I laughed, and we walked back to the register, making small talk about his hair salon and about nothing in particular. During this walk, I calmed myself down to almost baseline, and realized I'm probably the one that is making this experience awkward.
We arrived back at Lane #1, and Joe handed the suit pants to the lovely cashier. She was about to stuff them in a bag with the rest of my purchases, until Joe said, "Oh wait, we didnt even check to see what size the pants were!" I knew they were too big, but I let Joe take them out and check the size. "36x32? Those are probably too small for you. Well, I'm just guessing, but maybe I'll find out later!" he said as he looked me over. I could see that my cashier looked surprised by her managers comment by the way she raised her eyebrows and how her mouth dropped open. Surprising even myself, I burst out laughing and said, "Hey, maybe. You never know!" Joe joined me in my laugh, and slapped me on the back. The cashiers face never changed as she handed me my bag, and said nothing. I wonder what her problem was?
I thanked the both of them and turned to leave but before I could, Joe reached into his pocket and held out something for me. "Here, take my card. Incase you....you know.....ever need a hair cut." I smiled at Joe, took the card and thanked him again. I turned and walked out of Burlington Coat Factory feeling strangely better about myself, but remembering why I hate leaving the house on my day off.