Tuesday, April 20, 2010

If only I had a brain

posted Wed, 29 Nov 2006

Did I tell you guys about the part where I failed my cash register training exam?

I didn’t?

Really?

Gee. How could that have slipped my mind?

OK. I got a 79 on the test and that’s not passing.

Girlfriends, I got a 4.0 in grad school. OK, so it’s not like grad school was like college or anything, where I absolutely did not get a 4.0. College was hard. I mean, in grad school, in business school, at least, you get a ‘B’ just for showing up. You have to spit on a prof to get lower than that.

But to fail the cash register test? That is really insulting.

I blame it on the HR lady. The one who yanked me off the terminal last week before I was through. At the beginning of the online training session, the announcer said the training would take five and a half to six hours.

“Then why are they allowing only four hours for me to finish?” I wondered to myself. I flew through the session, clicking “next” as soon as it appeared. The woman at the other terminal was a good two hours behind me.

At noon, they made us stop. They had other people scheduled to take the class. When the other woman asked if everyone else was finishing in time, the HR lady cheerfully told her no, not really, then asked when we could come back to finish.

My theory is that they don’t want to pay for the extra two hours of training. Yes, we get paid for the time we spend in training. So by telling us we have only four hours to do the class, it’s our problem if we don’t finish. We still have to come back, but it’s off the clock.

So I had to return a week later – using another gallon of gas, taking a shower and putting on makeup and dress-up clothes – to complete the test, which took me all of ten minutes, and of course I didn’t remember all the details I learned last week so of course I got only a 79 which meant I got the store’s equivalent of the Red Hand of Death flashing on the screen telling me I was not fit to be a cashier and this development would have to be discussed with my manager.

Be nice to the cashier when you are out Christmas shopping this week. You might get someone like me who doesn’t have a darn clue about what she is doing. She’s trying, I promise. But she’s just been told by a cheerfully condescending HR woman and an inanimate object that she’s an idiot. It doesn’t make for good cashiering.

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