Monday, October 02, 2006

Buggy-diving

Part of any service desk associate's job is to sort out the buggies of returns. The next time you're in a SuperCenter, particularly late at night or on a weekend, look at their Service Desk.

Associates out the in the store "clean" their areas by filling buggies with all the items people leave on shelves, the floor or just anywhere and then push them up to the Service Desk. They're supposed to sort them out into the bins for each department, but they never do. So in addition to returns, exchanges, money orders and all that jazz, we've got to try and keep a handle on buggies and buggies and buggies - all day long.

Anyway. Saturday, I was working on one buggy and got what looked like a cosmetics case. It didn't have a tag on the outside, but some of that stuff now has the UPC number either sewn into or printed on a tag on the inside. So I open it up.

And it has a load of tampons in it.

Yes. Tampons. Tampax. Now More Absorbent.

I was just speechless. How do you just loose your pouch of feminine necessities, especially if you have such a problem that you have to walk around with 15 of them just to come to Wal-Mart?

When I held one up to show the girl working with me, another of the guys, who isn't too swift on the uptake, asks "Is that marijuana?"

So on top of finding tampons, this poor guy thinks I'm holding a bag full of fatties. So we had to explain about "women's things" and then what you do with a tampon. At least I got one good laugh Saturday. A bag full of pot? I'm not exactly going to announce it now am I?

What else have I found in buggies? Dirty diapers tied up in Wal-Mart bags. Bloody band-aids. All sorts of half-eaten food (are you really THAT hungry?), condoms, open bottles of pills, baby bottles, pacifiers, canes - like what old people use, the takeout containers from the deli - either empty or full of chicken bones.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I've been working a Supercenter for a bit over a month now, and I guess I can add to the things nobody bothered to teach me the fact that I'm supposed to sort all the crap I haul up to the service desk. On the other hand, most of the time the area is too damn packed with the worst assortment of humanity anybody should ever want to see to even be able to get in there more than it takes to park the shopping cart without getting in people's way.