Basically, this is how the average retail worker of a large Supermarket spends his day after his lunch break. The clerk will be designated "Phil", and the customers by letters.


"Ah, that was a fine lunch! I can't wait to get back on the sales floor and start cleaning up my department." Phil works in the sporting goods section of a large Supermarket. "Let's see, what did (Phil's boss) tell me to do? That's right... bring the bicycles from the back rooms to the sales floor and close the department. This should be easy."

As Phil walked through the large doors seperating the break room from the sales floor, he struck his hand on something sharp. "Ow! What the hell was that?" Phil looked at his hand. "Jesus, that's a bad cut. I'd better go to the first aid station and get this cleaned up."

"Excuse me, you," customer A said to Phil as he rushed toward the first aid station, "are you from the first aid station?"

"No, sir, I'm not," Phil said. "Is something the matter? Is someone injured?"

"No. I was just at the first aid station looking for help in electronics. Because you are not from the first aid station, you must be in electronics. Where can I find these?" Customer A held up a sales paper and flashed Phil a picture of a radio.

"Sir, I'm not from electronics, I'm from sporting goods. I was just on my way to get this cut cleaned up. I can get someone from electronics over here to help you, or a manager if you'd wish..."

"I've been waiting here for three hours for someone to answer a stupid question, and every time someone comes, they pass me to someone else! Where's your manager so I can complain!"

"Let me phone her, just a minute." Phil responded, then began toward the first aid station. On his way, he was stopped again, this time by the fans.

"Excuse me, sir," an old lady, customer B, cried out, "I want a fan, but I want a metal one."

"Well, ma'am, all of our fans have both metal and plastic parts. I don't think we sell a purely metal fan." Phil quickly replied as he started off toward the first aid station again.

"No, listen. I want a fan where this part," she grabbed an opperating display fan, "this part right in here," she pointed to the blades, "is metal. All of these are plastic, and that doesn't do shit for, well, blowing."

"Um, ma'am, all of these fans have metal blades. Some of them are plastic coated..."

"No," customer B was starting to get agrivated, "I want one with metal. Look." She promptly stuck her hand through the safety grating on the operating fan and was cut severly when her hand struck the plastic coated, metal blades.

"Are you alright?" Phil asked, wishing the old woman had stuck her head in the blades instead.

"I think it's broken!" customer B yelled. "I want to talk to your manager, you young punk! I'm going to sue you for every last penny you're worth!"

Won't get much, Phil thought. "I can contact my manager in a minute, please hold." Phil continued toward the first aid station, wondering why they put it in the front of the store and not the back, where the most accidents are likely to occure. "Must be for convienence," Phil muttered to himself.

"Convienence?" customer C rang out. "What the hell do you know about that? I've been waiting here for three hours, ringing this damned bell, and no one has even approached me."

Must have come in with customer A, Phil thought. To Phil's horror, he realized that he passed by the sporting goods counter. "Can I get you anything, sir?" Phil asked.

"Yes," customer C answered, "a fishing licence, please."

Just then, the phone rang.

"Can I see your driver's licence?" Customer C handed the licence to Phil. "Please hold." Phil picked up the phone. It was his manager. After being yelled at for not being at his counter after punching in from lunch, Phil told her to go down to the electronics department and handle the situation there. He decided not to tell her about customer B.

Phil ran the information into the licence machine, and it spat out a fishing licnece. "Here you are sir, that'll be $13.00."

"This licence is all bloody! I'm not going to accept that!" Customer C asked for Phil's manager's phone number, then left the store without his driver's licence.

Phil smiled, threw the driver's licence into the trash, and continued toward the first aid station. He was stopped by customer A.

"Did you get a hold of your manager for me?" he asked.

"She's probibly looking for you at the electronics section right now. If you'll excuse me, I have to clean out this cut on my hand." Phil started to leave.

"I followed this blood trail over to here. I thought I'd find someone who could help me. I guess not." Customer A threw his hands up in disgust and began to leave the store. Just then, he said, "That's one mighty nasty cut, aren't you going to clean that up?"

Phil ignored this comment.

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