By Jerome Haller

One night, Raquel walked up to me for a chat. She told me a male customer had been making her uncomfortable during her shifts. She said he repeatedly complimented her face and curvy figure.
The news enraged me. Raquel, a cashier, does her job well and follows the Golden Rule. Due to mutual respect, she and I have become friends.
After Raquel described the jerk, I recalled watching him during previous shifts. He has an average height and build, with some flecks of gray at the temples. A cocaine dealer by trade, he flashes a big wad of cash and talks loudly on a cell phone as though he were a big shot. He chats up the Cool Assistant Manager to earn suck up points. He often buys flowers for emaciated women. The staff ponders whether the women are hookups or clients.

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Posted on May 2, 2011

By Jerome Haller

On a recent Sunday night, I got a reminder about an unexpected benefit of my job.
There was a lull in activity. A rush of shoppers had ended. Some employees left for the evening.
I stood at my post near the registers. The Head Guard hung nearby. Two cashiers I’ll call Raquel and Mary relaxed after ringing sales. Raquel has a curvy build. Marisa, the youngest cashier, combines a deadpan sense of humor with a steely gaze.
We chatted. Somehow our conversation turned to homosexuality.
“If I was like that, I would kill myself,” the Head Guard said.

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Posted on January 20, 2011

By Jerome Haller

I walked into the store after two days off. A young cashier leaned on the counter with a smirk on her face. That meant she had some hot gossip.
“Did you hear what happen?” she asked.
“No,” I replied.
She then told me the Cool Assistant Manager had suspended the Nice Cashier following an argument. The news surprised me. The Nice Cashier is one of the kindest and most professional people at the store.
Later that night, the Cool Cashier told me the full story. A customer had tried to use an expired coupon. The Nice Cashier said no. The Cool Assistant Manager overruled her. The Nice Cashier thought the manager should have backed her up. She called him an asshole.

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Posted on January 17, 2011

By Jerome Haller

As part of my ongoing effort to find another job, I took the El downtown for an interview. A security company had advertised openings that paid better than the minimum wage I currently earn. During the session, I confronted one of my deepest fears.
I walked into an office and filled out an application in a cramped reception area. Eight people, all looking nervous, waited along with me. The receptionist sent us one by one into a small room for an interview.
My turn came. A man who resembled a thinner and more chiseled version of Charles Bronson sat at a table. He asked me a few basic questions. Then he plunged into the heart of the matter. “Do you have a problem carrying a gun?”

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Posted on January 11, 2011

By Jerome Haller

Around 5:20 on a recent morning, a woman walked into the store and said she needed help. She wore a pair of blue corduroy slacks. She had nothing on her feet or above her waist. In short, she was topless.
The lack of clothing surprised me. The temperature had dropped to 10 degrees.
I reached for the phone. First, I paged the Cool Assistant Manager. Afterward, I called the police. While I described the situation, the woman lunged at me, beat my arms and chest and yelled. I pushed her back with my right forearm. She sat on the floor. The police arrived and escorted her out of the store. An ambulance took her to a hospital.
Coworkers cracked jokes about the incident for weeks.

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Posted on December 23, 2010

By Jerome Haller

On a recent Sunday morning, I stood near the front of the store along with the Lazy Cashier and Pitbull. Pitbull cracked jokes about yet another bad date.
“She got the most expensive steak on the menu,” he cried. “I did not even get a kiss goodnight.”
The Lazy Cashier did not say anything. I laughed.
Pitbull kept riffing. I kept laughing. Then I felt myself getting light in the head. My knees buckled. I passed out and fell backward. The back of my head hit the carpet. My glasses fell backward.

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Posted on December 16, 2010

By Jerome Haller

Thanks to dumb luck, the road not taken or closed off has sometimes turned into a blessing in disguise for me. Years ago, I did not hit on a voluptuous neighbor who turned out to be a drug dealer. I did not get a pricey liberal arts graduate degree that’s currently unmarketable. And I decided not to move into a more expensive apartment just before getting laid off from my longtime gig.
Recently, my good fortune struck again.
Twice over the last three years, I interviewed with one of the biggest local security companies. I wore a suit, filled the application, and patiently answered the interviewer’s questions. Both times, I did not get a rejection letter or even a call back.

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Posted on November 15, 2010

By Jerome Haller

I’m new to the door man game, but I think I’m getting good at it. After all, I learned everything I know about working in bars from Road House. Expect the unexpected. Be polite – until it’s time not to be polite. Remember, it’s just a job; it’s nothing personal. If a customer give you trouble, walk him to the door. Never start anything inside the bar. Take out the trash.
Here’s how things went one night last weekend.
* The big thing about this particular night was that a neighborhood street festival was going on. We were in the line of fire. Because of bad past experiences, our door was plastered with signs saying “No Public Restroom!” I pranced around the bar before my shift started shouting “No public restroom!” just for practice. It turned out I would need it.

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Posted on August 4, 2010

By Jerome Haller

Sometimes I feel like a hypocrite when I stand at my post and watch for shoplifters. I once stole candy from a store.
The incident took place while I attended elementary school. On a June afternoon, my sister and I walked to a Jewel to buy candy. I was 10 years old, and she was eight. We planned to share treats during the end-of-the-school-year parties organized by our respective classes.
Once inside the store, we split up. I saw an open bag of Hershey’s Kisses, looked around, and grabbed a couple. I stuffed the goodies in my mouth and put the wrappers in my pocket. Then I walked about 10 feet down the aisle to avoid getting caught in front of the bag.
About five minutes later, my sister stood to my left. Her closed mouth moved rapidly. I noticed a telltale wrapper next to her feet. Then I saw a frowning female cashier behind us. The cashier dragged us up metal stairs to the top floor.

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Posted on July 28, 2010

By Jerome Haller

Early on a recent Sunday morning, a short, bald man limped into the store. He hovered near the front. Shortly afterward, a taller man walked in and headed toward the back. While I chatted with an assistant manager, the two men left the store together.
The assistant looked at me and said the first man served as a lookout. “They stole something,” he said.
The idea that these two losers had punked me made me boil. When I started the job, the Head Guard had told me not to take theft personally. But I can’t help it. When it happens, I feel personally violated.
In short, I wanted these guys. Game on.

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Posted on July 27, 2010