I fully intended to stay calm. This was the kind of low-stakes errand that didn’t have to set my emotions aflame.
I was committed to returning a set of Amazon purchases that did not pass muster … and despite having a price point so low that I would normally absorb the cost as not worth the effort and gasoline required to drive to the Smiley-Arrow returns collection site.
Of course … I was in Staples during the penultimate week of back-to-school shopping, and it was dawning on me that management had only supplied one associate to operate the till.
And the register in question was not the one handling regular shipping, where a clerk who had just disengaged with a sale informed me it was not the register dedicated to Amazon returns, which the till employee had to toggle between, and where I needed to stand and wait.
Potentially until Hell froze over.
“Smile,” I told myself. “Breathe. It’s been a pleasant day. You have time to spare. Look at all the nice people who are ahead of you, and who look as if they are also committed to staying calm no matter what happens.”
But then the clerk from the regular shipping department – which I could see from my vantage point beside the growing line of people pushing carts piled high with fresh school supplies, ensuring that the clerk would not be toggling our way any time soon – meandered over, stopped just feet away from our empty lane, and meandered back.
I didn’t snap … exactly.
But I did suck in my breath, say a silent “Hell No,” and left my place in line to march the 40 yards toward the shipping department where I asked the startled clerk if anyone would be available to accept the Amazon return items in the foreseeable future.
“Someone will be coming. But they’re not ready yet.”
I’m not sure what happened next … My head felt swimmy. I saw sparks, or strange specks of light, as the room closed in on me.
“Can’t you work that register?” I managed to say, hopefully without malice seeping into my voice.
Truly … I have no idea what employment protocols are in place in the big box office supply stores of this great nation. Maybe there is limited cross-training. Maybe the clerk was off the clock and at lunch. Maybe there is a dedicated hand-held computer for this purpose that only THAT PERSON has access to? There are infinite possibilities that I should have considered.
I just didn’t want to leave if the line wasn’t going to last until closing time.
The clerk said nothing, but began to walk toward the Amazon line, now several people deep.
I followed, resolved to accept my new location at the back of the line.
When we got there, the employee we had been waiting for met us at the till, so the clerk I had badgered turned around and silently retreated, but not before meeting my tight smile with another tight smile.
The line would go quickly … so long as we all had our return codes ready.
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