Hot Josh and the Self-Checkout Employee Discount
I had eleven items.
The regular checkout lines were ridiculous.
One cashier.
Nine customers.
One shopping cart appeared to contain enough groceries to survive a six-month siege.
Then I saw it.
SELF-CHECKOUT
Six machines.
No waiting.
I walked over.
“Welcome. Please scan your first item.”
I scanned my first item.
Beep.
Then another.
Beep.
Then another.
Beep.
Everything was going beautifully.
Until I realized something.
I was working.
I looked around.
Nobody was scanning these groceries for me.
Nobody was bagging them.
Nobody was accepting my payment.
I was doing all of it.
Interesting.
I scanned another item.
Beep.
Four items.
Four successful transactions.
Zero training.
Frankly, I was outperforming expectations.
Then the machine spoke.
“Place your item in the bagging area.”
I had already done that.
Apparently my new supervisor was a micromanager.
“I did.”
“Please place your item in the bagging area.”
“It’s there.”
“Unexpected item in bagging area.”
Now wait a minute.
First I’m instructed to place the item there.
Then the item becomes unexpected.
This workplace had serious communication problems.
A store employee walked over.
“Everything okay?”
“I’m having some issues with management.”
She looked at the machine.
Then at me.
“What happened?”
“It accused me of introducing an unexpected item into the workplace.”
She pressed a button.
The machine immediately forgave me.
Apparently she was upper management.
I continued scanning.
Milk.
Bread.
Coffee.
Something I absolutely did not remember putting in my cart but apparently wanted badly enough to purchase anyway.
Then I reached the final item.
Beep.
Eleven out of eleven.
Perfect attendance.
No damaged merchandise.
No customer complaints.
I had even brought my own reusable bag.
Employee of the month material.
I pressed PAY.
The total appeared.
I stared at it.
Full price.
That couldn’t be right.
I called the employee back.
“I think there’s a problem.”
She returned.
“Did something not scan?”
“No. Everything scanned beautifully.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Where’s my employee discount?”
She stared at me.
“My what?”
“Employee discount.”
“You’re not an employee.”
I gestured toward the machine.
“Then who just checked me out?”
“You did.”
“Exactly.”
She smiled.
I remained serious.
“I scanned eleven products.”
“Yes.”
“I bagged eleven products.”
“Yes.”
“I operated company equipment.”
“Technically.”
“I resolved a workplace conflict.”
“You argued with the scale.”
“And won.”
She started laughing.
I continued.
“I’ve now performed every function necessary to complete this transaction except stocking the shelves.”
“Would you like an application?”
That was clever.
Dangerously clever.
“No. I’m more of an independent contractor.”
She laughed harder.
I pointed toward the total.
“So what’s the compensation structure?”
“There isn’t one.”
“Breaks?”
“No.”
“Health insurance?”
“No.”
“Retirement match?”
“No.”
“Terrible workplace.”
The customer at the machine beside me was now listening.
He nodded.
I had organized labor surprisingly quickly.
The employee crossed her arms.
“Are you going to pay?”
“Under protest.”
“That’s fine.”
I inserted my card.
The machine processed the payment.
Then came the final insult.
“Please take your receipt.”
I stared at it.
“You’re not even going to hand it to me?”
The employee walked away laughing.
I took the receipt myself.
Another uncompensated task.
As I headed toward the exit, I passed the regular checkout lanes.
A cashier was scanning someone else’s groceries.
Bagging them.
Accepting payment.
Doing everything I had just done.
Except she was getting paid.
I stopped.
Looked at my receipt.
Looked back at self-checkout.
For approximately three seconds, I considered filing a timesheet.
Instead, I left.
Because sometimes you have to know when to walk away from a toxic workplace.
The lesson?
Stores call it self-checkout.
Hot Josh calls it an unpaid internship.
And after eleven flawless scans, he still believes somebody owes him a W-2.
