I worked in retail for a few years about a decade ago, but only one story stands out, and probably just because I wrote about it. On February 5, 2006 I posted the following on my LiveJournal:
Only a couple of you know that I'm halfway through a two-week stint of "voluntary" manual labor at Wal-Mart. Rather than my usual stressful but amusing job I'm doing mindless manual labor at the supercenter across town from my own store. It's not hard, but it's mind-numbingly boring.
On Thursday one of my jobs was resetting a modular, which is hardly intellectually taxing, but still is more interesting than the usual work. So I spent four hours rearranging the "Family Planning" section. Family Planning consists primarily of condoms, with occasional foirees into lube, pregnancy tests, and various ointments and creams for people with itchy, burning, or gooey vaginas.
All day, customers were standing next to me, avoiding eye contact. It was hilarious. My most memorable moment, though, was when an older man--I'd guess late sixties or early seventies--walked right up to me, stared at my feet and mumbled, "Mmlkngfurcdms."
"Pardon?"
He looked uncomfortable. "I'm looking for condoms."
"Oh, okay. They're right over here," I said, and gestured to my left. He looked, and seemed taken aback by the selection. "Um... Which ones should I get?"
Oh dear. How do I respond to this? My mouth opened and closed a time or two as I surveyed the shelves. Ribbed, flavored, magnum, spermicidal, her pleasure, extra sensitive, lubricated, warming sensation--I suddenly saw the selection through his eyes. "Well," I said, "...um..." I had no idea what to tell him and considered shouting "WHAT'S THAT," pointing at nothing behind him, and running away, when he relieved some of the tension.
"I had surgery yesterday and the doctor told me to cover up when I take a shower." His eyes left the shelves and met mine. "Prostate surgery, you know. So I'm supposed to buy condoms."
I never thought I'd one day feel such immense relief upon an old man's announcement of his prostate surgery. It--the relief, that is--was palpable. I'm sure he noticed it, because suddenly he started talking. Condoms, mostly. He talked about how he hasn't bought them in years, and how in his day they bought them from service stations and he hadn't even known Wal-Mart would carry them but his doctor told him to go to Wal-Mart and buy Playtex condoms. This caught me off guard. Playtex condoms? I wasn't aware of their existence, but knew that the store didn't carry them. I had, after all, spent the last few hours here.
I interrupted and said, "Well, we don't have that brand, but if you're just using them to keep from getting wet in the shower it probably doesn't matter much which one you get. I'd probably get the cheapest ones." He saw the logic in that and we looked for the cheapest ones. He got a box of twelve, thanked me, and walked off. I tried not to consider the logistics of old men wearing condoms in the shower and go back to my Vagisil.
Wal-Mart is a very odd place to work. I'm not sure I can recommend it in good conscience.
I never quite figured out why one should keep one's dick dry after getting prostate surgery, but was never curious enough to Google it.