My CV: Winn Dixie

Following my one day stint at a car wash, Jenny my bestie, came by to share that a new Winn Dixie grocery store would be opening up in Stuart and we should definitely go get jobs there because they’ll hire us because we’re teenagers. She was right and again we both were hired.

Training for this position was in a little room at the back of store. A tv/vhs combo played videos about how to weigh the fruit and accept WIC coupons. As checkout girls, our uniform was a teal smock with a name tag. The year was 1994 and at this time in Florida they had bag boys. A bag boy was either under 18 or over 70, rarely in between. They would walk the customer’s cart to their car and help them load their groceries in. I know, kind of hard to imagine in a world with self-checkout and paying for bags.

What I liked about this job was that it was relatively easy, stand in one place and run the bar code over the scanner. Boop, boop, boop. In my first forward facing role, I enjoyed talking to the customers. I quickly learned all the codes for the produce and liked how fast I could scan the items. Efficiency. When we weren’t busy we had to stand out in front of the checkout by the magazines so customers would know we were available. A manager would scold us for talking to each other and god forbid you picked up a magazine to peruse.

I didn’t like when it was slow, waiting for someone to bring up a cart of groceries. I also didn’t like counting out my register at the end of my shift. I was terrified something would be off and I’d have to put my own money in the till. That never happened thankfully.

Two big things did happen. I developed my first crush on a bag boy, Taj. I was 16 and he was 17 when he landed in my lane. He introduced himself by looking right into my eyes and smiling, dazzling me with his perfect white teeth, luscious lips and bright brown eyes. My world stood still as I turned red as a tomato and my stomach landed in the floor. I realized all at once that this was thing they were talking about in the movies. He asked if I wanted to share break time together. (Did I ever?!) After a couple of shifts he asked for my phone number and well what happened after that is its own story and no place for a CV.

The next big thing that happened came on a slow night. I made a big mistake. HUGE. In 1994 the drinking age in Florida was 21. As a checkout girl I needed to check the ID for anyone I suspected that looked under 25. Being 16, this was a challenge. Who to card? I typically erred on the side of caution, carding people I knew were old enough just to be sure. So when a young man came through my check out sporting his ID which said he was born in 1975 I quickly did the math in my brain and determined him to be of drinking age. The year is 1994. In old math you put the big number above the lower and subtracted. My big HUGE mistake was that I took 4 from the 5 and the 7 from the 9 and got 21. This math problem needed a tad more calculating and if I’d been a little more careful I’d have gotten 19.

Behind the 19 year old who I’d just sold a six pack of beer to, appeared a man dressed in plain cloths. A cop. He pulled a tag out of his shirt and informed me that this was a sting operation and I was being arrested for selling alcohol to a minor.

I explained “No, he’s 21!” He said I’d made a mistake and the store and I would need to pay for it. Thankfully I wasn’t handcuffed though I was exceptionally rattled. My career as a checkout girl was over! It was a simple mistake. I called my mom from the office shaking and she had to come pick me up even though my car was right outside. She kept saying “I can’t believe you did that over and over.” With no funds to purchase a lawyer, I had to report to juvenile legal services and received a sentence of 300 community service hours. The store had to pay a $12,000 fine.

What is it like being arrested at 16? Defeating. I felt terrible. Embarrassed. Unfair. A brutal introduction to adulthood. Would this go on my permanent record? I did my community service hours at Savannah House, an in-between space for mothers leaving abusive situations. I would go there for four hours a week and clean and organize. I also did student teaching my Senior year of high school. The authorities let those hours count too. Thankfully because I still needed to pay for my car and photography through my job and I had no idea how I would have fit it all in. I remember writing a strongly worded letter to the judge. I never had to go to court though there must have been paperwork submitted to somebody. It was so long ago and I’m certain I blocked out some of the experience.

Thirty two years later, when I work at the bar 2 nights a week I’m still terrified of miscalculating someone’s age in an undercover sting operation.

Transferable Skills

Customer Service: In those days there was much to discuss. Expired coupons, asking the customers what fruit I couldn’t identify. Did they want paper or plastic bags?

Efficiency: Not only was I talking to customers, but at the same time quickly moving their items over the scanner to get them on their way. I prided myself on being fast.

Basic Math: I did become better at math from this experience. I had to. Also counting out the till every day.