Paper or Plastic

I could have sworn that the lady in line said she was fine with plastic but after I finished bagging about a trillion dollars worth of groceries she says, “I wanted paper.” So there I was in 1992 with my red apron, bald head (Jordan style), black slacks and standard issued bow tie. I was a Vons box clerk and this was my first real job.

For five months I retrieved carts, pulled nightly loads with a pallet jack, cleaned check stands, did “go-backs” (returning the items people don’t want after realizing this item isn’t on sale) and of course bagged groceries. And please don’t be deceieved about the art of bagging. Perishables go together as do frozen goods. Bread and eggs are on top while canned goods are on the bottom but watch that bag weight. Not too heavy or you’ll get to do that bagging job again. Oh and don’t forget to ask the customer if they want paper or plastic.

When I talk of humility I make the mistake of saying that basketball taught me the lesson in isolation but I’ll tell you right now that few jobs are as thankless as being the kid at the end of the check stand. I was 16 years old and I was invisible to customers more often than not. It was better that way. Be quick, efficient and anticipatory. Learn every aisle in the store and its contents so that you can tell the mom with kids in tow that the pasta is on #14. It wasn’t just humility I learned but moreover how to handle stress, how to be resilient, friendly, considerate and how to pick up the slack of others who don’t pull their weight.

My first day on the job was an Easter Sunday, one of the busiest grocery shopping days of the year. But it was holiday pay, time-and-a-half. Crowded grocery stores bring out the worst in us but not if you’re a box clerk. There’s no time to pout when a manager announces, “Clean-up on aisle #16.” Get it done man whether it’s vomit or apple juice.

I only worked there for five months. My final Basketball season of high school began in October of 1992 and I thought it’d be too strenuous to work and do physical conditioning. What a luxury to be able to make such a decision huh? But the damage was done. The transferable lessons of my Vons experience have a permanence that can’t be explained. The whole job was centered on serving others, something this 16-year old didn’t want to absorb. I’m proud of my first gig. When I die, I wouldn’t be mad if the epitaph read, “He was just as fast with the paper as he was with the plastic.”