I am a pretty socially awkward person. I'm an introvert, I'm shy, I'm terrible at small talk -- after I know someone well, it gets a lot better, but until then, I'm pretty lost. It's not necessarily how I want to be, but I doubt I'm going to change at this point. This means it's getting increasingly unpleasant to just go to a store and buy stuff.
Every time I go to a cashier nowadays, I get a whole lot of chatter. I don't know if this is a recent phenomenon, but it sure seems like it. Granted, this is a totally first-world problem, if even that. It's never a horrible experience for me. But it does seem like an unnecessary chore. I never know what to say. And then when I do say something, I often say something kinda lame, and on the way home I kick myself a little about it.
Maybe most people love to chat with cashiers. After all, most people are extroverts -- around 75% of the population. But for the 25% of us who are introverts, it's not easy.
There are degrees. When it's a cashier at some mom-and-pop store, it's not so bad. You get the feeling that this is just a chatty person. But when it's a cashier at a big chain, I always assume that this is a sort of store mandate -- that they are forced by corporate dictum to chat up everyone who comes in, because extensive research has revealed that, subsequent to the requisite jibber-jabber, customers will see this local franchise #1432398-3 of Megalofoods as their down-home, aw-shucks meetin' hole. Then they'll bring all their young'uns and grandpappies and have a good ol' time, which will then provide sufficient cash outflow for Megalofoods to purchase the Amazon River and drain it of endangered tree frogs to sell as "beef substitute."
Is that paranoid? Maybe a little bit. But you can't deny that sometimes it is explicitly store-mandated chatter: specifically, when they try to sell you the store credit card or club membership or whatever. I always say "no thank you." I don't want a commitment here. I just want a freaking donut.
This probably goes back to my near-pathological aversion to salespeople. Which in turn might go back to my childhood fear of ventriloquist dummies. You might not see where I'm going with this.
When I was a kid, ventriloquist dummies seemed human but they weren't. I just wasn't sure, and felt like that dummy sitting in the corner of the room could spring to life at any moment. Meanwhile, salespeople are talking to me like they're regular humans -- but they're not, they're salespeople. They're relating to you only because they want something out of you. It's all fake -- fake niceness, fake concern, fake everything, just to manipulate you into giving up more of your money.
I'm sorry, that's a terrible thing to say. It's just how talking with salespeople makes me feel. On the other hand, what I know, intellectually, is that sales is a really tough job that a lot of people need to do to keep any economy afloat. I certainly couldn't do it, not for a day, so I have an admiration for those who can.
A distant admiration, that is. I still have this deep-seated repulsion when I'm in the situation, a repulsion that I do feel guilty about later. I saw a documentary once about a parking lot (I am an exciting guy), in which the workers talked about how people always treated them like crap, refusing to look at them, throwing money at them, arguing with them about the rules -- basically treating them like inferiors.
I don't want to be like that. I want to treat everyone with respect. But I'm also not comfortable enough talking to strangers, and especially not potential salespeople, to go along with the chatter. When I go to buy something I answer all questions briefly and directly and say "thank you" at the end. But I make almost no eye contact and I don't smile. I am capable of doing so, but I'm so devoted to avoiding small talk that I'm willing to make myself seem like a dorky, semi-autistic weirdo.
Some cashiers take the hint. The ones at many big chains don't, perhaps because they aren't allowed to. The worst are at Potbelly Sandwiches, Barnes and Noble, and Trader Joe's. I gave up going to Potbelly because I got so exhausted with the small talk. I rarely go to Barnes and Noble any more -- Amazon.com keeps looking better and better each time the Barnes and Noble cashiers try to push a Nook or a membership on me.
I have to go to Trader Joe's because they're the only place with $3 bottles of wine. But I always buy around two cases of alcohol so I don't have to go again for a long time. (Which then means that cashiers always say either "Wow, I want to come to your house! Ha ha ha" or "You having a party?," to which I always want to say "No, this is just for me, tonight. I'm trying to drink myself to death.")
I'm probably sounding like a jerk at this point, and I certainly don't want to. I don't think I am a jerk --I'm just a severe introvert. There's a big difference. Jerks look down on people. Introverts are afraid of them. Extroverts don't usually try to understand this distinction, so we introverts are usually seen as aloof at best and assholes at worst. But we're really not terrible people. We just are not comfortable talking to you unless we know you.
So cashiers of the world, when someone shuffles up to you, eyes averted and frowning, please, please, take the hint and don't talk to him about the weather. Don't talk about how much you love whatever he's buying. Don't try to push whatever you've been told to push on him. Just let him pay and go. Otherwise, you're going to be scaring even more people towards Internet shopping. If only $3 bottles of wine were available at Amazon ...
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