My first job was in a big department store during the summer where I moved around, filling in for people who were on vacation. How lucky, I thought, that I got to start out at the candy counter!
My boss was a kind woman who showed me how to measure out the bulk candies, scooping them onto the scales and figuring out the cost. Then sliding them into a little white bag and making change.
About mid-morning, an elderly gentleman in a dark suit came up to the counter to order a half pound of bulk chocolate. I loved those big chunks of milk chocolate, bigger than anything you could get in a candy bar.
When I handed the gentleman his half pound and told him the cost, he frowned. “You didn’t give me my discount!” he scolded. Suddenly I remembered that employees received a ten percent discount and quickly refigured the cost. He walked away without a word.
“How was I supposed to know he was an employee?” I asked my boss. “Not just an employee,” she said, “The owner of the store. But don’t worry about it.”
I wasn’t worried, I was angry! Why couldn’t he have introduced himself and welcomed me to his store? I was remembering this recently when the new fellow at the food coop gave me the wrong change—and we both laughed about it.
We’ve all been new once.
