It probably won't surprise you much to know that we do judge you by what you buy.

   Not that I consider myself a judgemental person, but while your groceries are making their way down that little conveyor belt, I'm already formulating a sort of picture in my head of just what type of person you are. You can tell a lot about a person by the things they buy. Not that it's intentional, but when a lady walks in and buys a large tub of butterscotch ripple ice cream, some sappy looking romance movie and twelve tins of cat food, well, lets just say that image is pretty clear. Here's your change ma'am, have a nice evening. Sorry about your horribly messy breakup.

   Call it stereotyping if you want, but really, don't we all do it anyways? Besides, it's a completely different world on the other side of that conveyor belt. One where the excitement of standing in the same spot for hours on end is only rivalled by the occasional thrill of asking someone for 'even' change. Seriously, people freak out about that kind of thing. You tell them that their total comes to twenty dollars 'even', and it's like they've won some sort of grocery shopping lottery or something. Their eyes light up. They gasp in disbelief. They start screaming and hugging random strangers. Maybe not to that extent, but it might as well be. It's a little sad, to be honest. I wonder if that's the most interesting thing that happened to them all day. Do they go home and tell their families about it over dinner?

    You start to think about that sort of thing once you've been standing there for long enough. You start to make up little games for yourself, to keep yourself busy, or at least from going insane. Like keeping count of how many times you've had to listen to a stuffed duck quacking "We wish you a merry Christmas." And it's January. I guess ducks that quack christmas carols just aren't quite in high demand.  I have not yet seen one person actually buy one, but it seems like every single person who walks in here is drawn to them by some sort of magnetic force.You know that little button on their foot that says "Press here"? Well, what you don't see is the fine print: "Press here... if you want to be given the death glare by the cashier who has had to listen to that song at least eight times already and is beginning to contemplate suicide."

   You would be surprised how much some people care about saving that extra five, or ten, or even two cents. "Ninety-nine cents? The sign said ninety cents." They glare at you, as if you're intentionally robbing them of those nine cents. Even after you've told them that the sign is wrong, they will still go on arguing.  And when you finally call for a price check, or call the manager and prove to them that the sign is, in fact, wrong, they decide that they didn't really want it anyways.

Thank you. Have a nice day.
Sometimes you begin to feel like a robot, programmed with polite responses.
Maybe you've been brainwashed by the music that's constantly playing: Soft rock, at a level that's just quiet enough to slowly drive you insane.

  Sometimes you're given the obsessive-compulsive task of facing the aisles. Which basically means pulling everything to the front and making it look nice, it's mostly for the makeup and shampoo aisles. It kind of makes me dizzy looking down a whole aisle made up of endless rows of perfectly arranged shampoo bottles. It's the kind of thing that makes you feel like running through the store and knocking them all down. But I get paid to make them look scary like that. It does make me realize how ridiculous those sort of things can be though. After looking at makeup and shampoo and self tanner and hair dye for a long enough time, you start to realize that it's just goop in a container with a label slapped on it. It won't find you happiness. You won't find your true love if you wear a certain kind of eyeshadow. It's just dust with some sparkles in it in a fancy container. Despite what they try to tell you on TV. You won't find any miracles in this aisle. Just goop and fancy dust.

Another sure-fire way to get a cashier to hate you? Come into the store right before closing and make sure you take as long as you possibly can to find a specific type of shower gel that you -always- buy and that you're -sure- is here.
Don't worry about taking too long, it's not like I mind. I would love to stand here all night.

Because after the excitement that goes on here, the last place I would really want to go, is home.