Apology & Gratitude

For three months, I was a grocery store cashier and now it’s over. I already miss the piles of produce, deli, and grocery items to take home, the little crushes, the cooking and costume competitions, the holiday movies and lunch banquet in the staff lounge, making a customer’s day with a comped item, the joy of counting my till at the end of the shift, that delightfully awkward moment when a customer or I realized we’d said something vaguely dirty like “just cram it in there!”, seeing adorably well-behaved children put items on the counter or pick out a sticker, and the hilarious overhead pages with birthday songs, staff farewells, forgotten items, and calling staff to join in the daily rotation of items on the shelves: “You have one. I have one. Now let’s give the store one! It’s time for the 3 o’clock face!” I saw my coworkers run after customers who had forgotten items, carry bags home for those that needed the help, give flowers to those who were grieving, and support each other when sick, heart-broken, or bloodied. I laughed every day, many times. I was hugged. I felt radiant and I grew plump.

Then there were the things I was eager to be rid of: coming up with new ways to greet over 30 customers an hour, explaining over and over how the credit card machine worked as I watched faces of all ages twist in frustration over being inundated with new technology against their will, the constant stimulation of lights, color, music, and people’s moods while recalling produce codes, procedures, and special requests for bagging, discounts, and coupons, the tedium of every minute and every hour feeling the same, all leading up to the release of the next break when we all tumbled withdrawn into the break room to stare at our phones and snack, whether or not we were actually hungry, and the odd type of restless exhaustion that came after a day of mind and body locked in repetition, but somehow having created nothing.

But what frustrated me most was how quick so many people, especially younger white women like me, were to apologize for a wide range of things that seemed to have far less to do with actual fault or empathy, and far more to do with automatic conditioning to be polite and feel ashamed of taking up space being anything less than perfectly pleasant, efficient, and self-sufficient. Those moments of shared inconvenience, and the vulnerability of being less than our best selves, invite us to embrace the very sense of acceptance and community so many of us long for, while a string of anxious apologies leave me feeling disconnected and powerless to help. I have therefore begun to transform my impulse to apologize into an expression gratitude, and I invite you on your next trip to the register to consider simply recognizing those who are paid to serve you for being patient, friendly, and resourceful, and reserving apology for those sincere moments you feel true remorse for causing harm.

Here are a collection of the most common apologies I’ve received for things you SHOULD NOT to apologize for:

1. Anything related to using food stamps. You don’t have to apologize for not knowing your balance, for having to void items that take you over budget, or for taking some extra time with your transaction. Being on a limited income is hard and can be embarrassing, so please just thank me for helping you navigate a resource that you deserve.
2. Forgetting your bag. I am thrilled that “reduce, reuse, recycle” has become so deeply engrained in our culture, but I am trying to help you get yourself, your child, your library books, and your bread, apples, wine, and six hundred cans of tuna out of the store without causing an avalanche in the parking lot that embarrasses you and stresses our cleaning staff. Just take a bag, even a double-bag, and say “thank you.”
3. Remembering you forgot an item. I get that we are expected to do a million things at once and have computers with photographic memories for brains, but this store and life in generally is really stimulating, so I totally get that you forget things. I have technology to help us with this and if you have to come through my line multiple times, just thank me for the pleasure of chatting again.
4. Anything related to coins. It doesn’t bother me at all if you want $10 cash back in quarters or you want to pay for your $2 cookie with nickels. And I especially don’t care if your bento costs $3.69 and you don’t have four pennies. I have a dish of loose change for customers to share and at least $500 in my till at any time. You can thank me for my patience, but I mostly just want to thank you for blowing my mind over the fact that people actually apologize for this.
5. Taking more than 15 items through the express line. I’m grateful you are reading the sign and respecting the rules, but I get to stand here and ring things up and smile at people whether it’s you and your stuff or someone else’s. It’s honestly all the same to me. If you are going to apologize to anyone, do it to the people in line behind you. Otherwise, it’s better for us to work together than both stand around waiting for the next customer or open register.
6. Using profanity. If you swear when you come through my line, rest assured that you have made my day. I will tell all my coworkers that you said, “F Christmas” or “Get the hell out of my way” or “I told him to F off” or “Why the hell is this so expensive?!” We will all laugh and bond and retell it later at reunions and going away parties. Thank YOU for using as much profanity as possible.
7. My error. There’s a lot for me to remember and keep track of, and it’s my job to handle the things that go wrong and get you on your way with the least possible inconvenience. It is not your fault for selecting an item of produce I haven’t memorized the code for, purchasing an item that is too heavy for our flimsy bag handles, being grossed out by something you got and wanting a refund, bringing a credit card that our card reader won’t recognize, or somehow using your superpowers to make me accidentally enter an astronomical price for an onion and then re-enter it five more times while trying to void it, and having to call a manager over to unfreeze the register. These things are our errors and an inconvenience to you, so I am the only one that should be doing any apologizing.

There are a few things that have happened that you really SHOULD apologize for:

1. Eating your bulk items in line. You pay for this by weight, so don’t look me in the eye as you lift a piece of cauliflower out of your salad or chocolate peanut out of your sack. You are egging me on to confront you about stealing when we could be having a lovely time together sampling any item at your request.
2. Believing you can do whatever you want. Parking in a handicapped spot without a disability isn’t ok, even if you are just “popping in for wine”. I know our parking lot is small and sometimes street parking means you have a walk a block or two, and it might be raining. Thank you for reserving those spots for people who have a disability other than just being a sociopath.
3. Late bagging requests. I am happy to use your bags, double-bag, pack cold items together, or put each tomato in its own bag, but if you wait until I have already packed your groceries, it pains me to have to undo my beautiful work of crisp corners and balanced weight with the avocado nestled perfectly on top.
4. Not remembering bulk codes. I don’t care if you remember the name of your trail mix or how much your nuts weighed, I need the code for inventory, and if you don’t write it down, I have to flip through pages and pages in my tiny code book only to find that there are 38 kinds of rice and the name you remember isn’t even listed. You can either apologize and run back to the bulk aisle to check, or I can read through the list of codes very slowly so everyone in line behind you can scowl at you for making them wait.
5. Not unloading your basket. When you acknowledge the sign that says “Please unload your basket” and lift your items once, it saves my back the pain of lifting gallons of milk and bags of potatoes all day long. It will also make sense where to put your basket – not on the belt or on the floor for people to trip over, but in the stack right at your feet.
6. Getting angry over being carded. I can get fined and go to prison for selling you alcohol if you look under 26, even if you are 40 and had a really tough day and really need your glass of wine. Don’t try and make me feel guilty for prioritizing my own job and clean record over your bad habit of leaving the house without your ID. You will just end up more frustrated, and you still won’t have any wine.
7. Misbehaving children. My mom always used to say that every child throws a tantrum in the grocery store… once. If you are letting your child practice that high-pitched shriek for more than a few seconds, demolish a carefully assembled display of candies, or beat the bag of baby carrots with my “closed” register sign while shouting “Cry! Cry!” then I fear for the future of our nation, and this requires far more from you than just a few words of apology.
8. Making a mess. The lentils you spilled are an eye sore, your dripping coffee is a slip hazard, and your muddy boots are requiring a staff member to follow you around the store with a mop. If you visited a friend’s home, you would leave your shoes at the door, tell them if you spilled something, and apologize. Give us the opportunity to be that friend who comforts you with a free cookie or cup of coffee for having a rough day like we all do from time to time.

In addition to all the lessons, stories, and laughs at the store, my vague and mostly theoretical concern with capitalism got personal. Despite this (B)enefit corporation’s commitment to donating product, increasing the minimum wage to $12, and reducing waste where ever possible, it is still embedded in a food system and economy that takes an incredible toll on both the environment and our quality of life. Even the smallest store requires an unfathomable amount of energy to produce, package, and transport products, dispose of packaging, grease, trimmings, and expired product, run the lights, machines, and fridges in the store, and staff the store 24/7 receiving, stocking, and processing food as well as cleaning and maintaining the grounds and helping customers. Some days our sales topped $100,000, but many of my coworkers were raising families on food stamps while working variable hours and sustaining injuries from handling tools, machinery, and heavy items or simply standing on concrete for hours on end year after year. Training was informal, minimal, and inconsistent. I do not pretend to understand consumer trends or the pressure of stakeholders, but I do know that the feeling of having settled and of being stuck was as heavy on my workers here as in nonprofit social services despite the perks, the pleasure of working alongside their coworkers, and having a good gig “for retail grocery”. My savings, education, health, and race gave me the privilege of reinvesting in my dream when I received the news that sales projections were too low to offer me a permanent position. Most people are lucky to simply have a stable job where they are treated with kindness and dignity, but I believe it is possible for us to have profitable companies while nurturing the environment and enabling every team member to thrive.

We have come a long way from walking outside our backdoor and pulling a carrot out of the ground. Our romance with food is not sustainable and I believe it is only going to change by necessity. One day, perhaps in our lifetimes, the trucks will not be able to get through to restock, the fridges and lights will stop working, and we will face a cold reality we have lost the skills to survive in. Perhaps will we then create a new localized community and realize it is far more nurturing than the one we were bound to by pleasure and fear. And perhaps then our impulse to apologize for our impact on the environment and each other will transform into a deep sense of gratitude for how fully we are held in interconnection.

Nancy

“For years I labored with the idea of reforming the existing institutions of society through a little change here and a little change there, but now I feel differently. You have to have a reconstruction of the entire society, a revolution of values.” – Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.