Of course, this is only about my local Dollar Tree store, and probably or perhaps not true of retail in general, or dollar stores everywhere. Or maybe it is. I didn't work retail for long, and it's been a lot of years, but it was purgatory.

At Dollar Tree, the workers hate working there. There's never a smile, never a laugh, never a hello when you walk in. Usually there's a thank you as you're rung up and leaving, but it's mechanical and required, and what they're really saying is thank you for leaving.

The customers hate shopping there, too. We're there because we know what the price will be ($1.25 for anything in the store) and sometimes that's a decent deal, but it's a miserable experience, every time. Nobody walks through the doors who wouldn't rather be somewhere else.

I'd absolutely hate working there, so I'm not ragging on the workers. It's gotta be exhausting dealing with people all day, day after day. I frickin' hate people (that's why I'm a hermit) and at Dollar Tree people are always walking in and out, and they're not the most elegant and charming people. It's in a semi-crappy neighborhood, with vagrants and varmints and vermin, and me.

In my two months in Seattle I've been to that Dollar Tree maybe fifteen times, and three times the manager was yelling at a customer to never come back. "You are banned," she screamed at someone a few mornings ago, as I walked in. Dunno what led to the banning, and I sure didn't ask. The banned man seemed slightly apologetic but mostly annoying, so I'm sure he deserved it.

Don't you want that authority in all walks of life? There's so many people I'd ban from my existence.

⦿ "Dean, you are banned."

⦿ "Donald Trump, you are banned."

⦿ "Everyone with mousse in your hair, you are banned."

⦿ People who sneeze too often.

⦿ People who smoke.

⦿ People who talk at the library.

⦿ Leonardo DiCaprio...

Anyway, back into the Dollar Tree, a/k/a the No Smile Zone. I'd come to stock up on cheap sparkly water, but felt the negative vibe soon as I got off the bus and walked toward the door. The very building would frown if it could, and you absorb the bad mood as you walk inside.

No music plays over the speakers, because even awful Muzak would tend to imply art, or culture, and remind shoppers and workers that our species has lifted itself from the swamps. Dollar Tree is evolution headed the other way.

♦ ♦ ♦

This is un-me-like, but in my last several visits I've started challenging myself to try making an employee smile. It's fun to break the rules, and a Dollar Tree employee smiling would violate every company policy.

The deal with myself is, if I make a Dollar Tree employee smile, I get to buy a burrito from the overpriced but pretty good taco truck at the corner by the bus stop. I've tried several times to make Dollar Tree workers smile, and earned no bonus burritos yet, but hope springs for at least another week before I give up.

With my basket about as heavy as I'm willing to tote to the bus stop, I was ready to ring up, but no-one was working at any of the cash registers. The 50-something vaguely ethnic woman who does all the banning — the manager, presumably — was filling an ugly display case with plastic doodads near the front, so I asked her, "Where should I go to be rung up?"

And that was a stupid question, I guess. "The only register that's not blocked off," she said flatly, and yeah, then I noticed, two of the check-out lanes had empty shopping carts blocking the way, and one had a rack of candy bars. There was nowhere to be except lane 3.

Me and the manager met in lane 3, and I emptied my crapola onto the conveyor belt. "Want a bag?" she said. Plastic bags cost 8¢ or a dime or something; it's the law. I smiled and held up my cloth bag.

She started beeping my sparkly waters and beans, and I said, "Hey, I like that ribbon in your hair," and I almost meant it. It was purple, and I do like purple, and I said it with what I hoped was a warm, friendly smile, not a pervy old man smile.

She only glanced at me, certainly not smiling, as she beeped the last of my beans. "Eight dollars and one penny."

I'd already inserted my card and pushed the buttons, so while waiting for the machine to approve me, I said, "Thank you for banning that jerk. The world still sucks, but it makes the store a better place."

"Receipt?" she said.

"Nah, no receipt," I said, and she walked away. With a last gallant effort as I grabbed my bag, I semi-shouted to her, "Thanks, and sorry about the next jerk who'll be here in a few minutes. Ha-ha..."

She stopped and turned and glared at me, and then she went back to stocking the doodad stand. No burritos for me, not today.

6/2/2022