Irrational Fears: Part 3

One of my greatest irrational fears is things with buttons.

No, not shirts.

I can button a blouse like the best of them.

I’m talking about machines with buttons, like copy machines.

It’s not that I’m not competent. If you hand me one piece of paper and say, “Please make 20 copies,” 7/10 times I’m going to nail it.

But, if you hand me multiple pages and say, “50 copies, double-sided, collated,” you know what I’ll return with?

Nothing.

Because I’ve created a paper jam so massive that it requires professional maintenance and/or a new machine.

I’ve found, at this point, it’s best just to flee the scene.

But more traumatic than copy machines is an apparatus that I’ve never once operated in my life.

Maybe, in my younger years, if I had worked at the grocery store or the frozen yogurt shop, I would have learned how to use this machine.

Instead, as a waitress and lifeguard, I acquired a different set of skills, which involved shouting pool rules, “No diving in the shallow end!” and serving cornbread.

(Not at the same time. Jeez, I’m not a superhero.)

For my whole professional life, I had somehow continued to avoid this machine.

That is, until my husband, Steve, decided to retire and it was my turn to work full time (that fear is real) and I considered working at Trader Joe’s because who wouldn’t want to work at the Disneyland of supermarkets?

I asked a friend, who works at our local Trader Joe’s, what my responsibilities would be.

She replied, “Stocking items, returning carts, helping customers…”

So far, so good, especially the helping customers part, which I already do now. 

But then she added, “And cash register.”

That’s when I broke out in a cold sweat. “I’ve never worked a cash register,” I whispered.

She laughed. “It’s no big deal.”

Maybe I should tell her my copy machine story.

And yes, this is an even BIGGER DEAL than a copy machine. When I mess up the copy machine, a tray of money doesn’t pop out, which I’m responsible for. (Or maybe it does? I’ve probably fled the scene by then.)

Seriously, so much can go wrong. I can picture it now…

It starts out fine, with me scanning items, which any monkey can do.

I like to think of myself as smarter than the average monkey. 

(Although, not smarter than an orangutan. Those primates are brainy.)

But then I come across a bag of teeny, tiny avocados and I’m required to punch in a code. Of course, I’ve memorized the code during Trader Joe’s training, but that was two weeks ago, and my middle-aged brain can only store information for so long. I fumble through my laminated cliff notes, but the sweat dripping into my eyes has rendered me partially blind. 

My line is now three people deep, which is unheard of in this store. Also, how can I be expected to read the teeny tiny code on the teeny tiny sticker on the teeny tiny avocados?

Is that an 8 or a 3? Let’s go with 8.

Apparently, it was a 3 because, instead of the avocados, I just entered the code for Cara Cara oranges.

The chances of me figuring out how to delete an item are slim to none, so I suggest that maybe the customer would like to go pick out a bag of Cara Cara oranges, because boy, oh boy, would that solve my problem.

But she shakes her head, and I try not to hyperventilate. 

My line is now 7 people deep, which has never happened in the history of Trader Joe’s. And one of the customers lets out an exasperated sigh. Also, unheard of. 

I continue to fumble through my notes, trying to reverse the produce debacle that I have created, and in a fit of desperation, I punch in random buttons on my register, hoping that it will either delete the oranges or unlock the secret door to Narnia.

Instead, the money drawer opens, which should never open unless there is an exchange of money.

Even I know that.

I whisper to the customer. “Do you want to give me some money?”

More head shaking. More sighs. More sweating.

I have no choice.

I ring the bell of shame.

“Manager on Register 4…”

You see why I’m better suited for the stockroom.

Or the local pool.

Or the zoo.

A Few More Fears…

• Trying to remember my Amazon password
• Having to call my daughter for the Amazon password and being reprimanded
• Ending up in the front row of a Zumba class
• Brussels Sprouts (Read: My Nemesis)
• Backwards somersaults
• Clinique discontinuing my favorite foundation
• Excessive and/or aggressive sneezing (Steve)