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I fired a 19-year-old cashier for falling asleep at her register, assuming she was just another lazy teenager. Finding out the heartbreaking truth behind her exhaustion became my greatest regret.
“Chloe, step away from the register. Right now. You’re done.”
My voice was sharp enough to cut glass. The line of customers had backed up into the snack aisle, and a woman in a designer coat was angrily tapping her credit card against the counter. And there was Chloe, my newest cashier, slumped over the barcode scanner, fast asleep.
I had been the general manager of this regional grocery store for fifteen years. I prided myself on efficiency, customer service, and running a tight ship. We had standards.
I marched her directly into my cramped office. I didn’t even offer her a seat.
“I don’t know what kind of parties you’re going to, or what you’re doing with your nights,” I snapped, pulling a termination form from my drawer. “But I don’t pay you to sleep off your weekends on company time. You’re a liability.”
Chloe blinked, her eyes bloodshot and swollen. She was only nineteen, a tiny girl who always seemed to be swimming in her oversized company polo shirt.
She didn’t argue. She didn’t snap back like I expected a teenager to do. She just stared at the floor.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Davis,” she whispered. Her voice was raspy, completely devoid of energy. “It won’t happen again.”
“You’re right, it won’t,” I said, sliding the paper across the desk. “Sign this. Turn in your nametag.”
She signed it with a trembling hand, left her plastic nametag on my keyboard, and walked out of the store without another word. I felt completely justified. I had protected the store’s reputation.
I was a fool.