CRAZY DAYS:
LIFE LESSONS, WACKY TIMES AND GOOD FRIENDS
in 46 years in retail
by
Gerald Rivinius
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
Gerald Rivinius
Copyright © 2011 by Gerald Rivinius
Smashwords Edition License Notes
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CONTENTS
Marketing, Promotion and Sales
*****
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To my wife and family for all the encouragement and support, including my sister Cleo for having a positive influence on my life.
To the entire retail work force, past and present, who have walked this path with me.
*****
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The stories in this book are true according to my recollection. Most of the names have been changed, and the locations are in the upper Midwest and Northwest.
*****
INTRODUCTION
FORTY-SIX YEARS in the retail drug industry resulted in worn-out knees from the hard tile floors, but the mental part was held intact with humor. The stories were plucked from my memory bank because of the laughs they provided or unique circumstances that could not be forgotten.
As I worked my way up from pharmacist to assistant manager to store manager, each position presented multiple challenges. The physical restraints of a smaller store or new policies and procedures were ongoing. Loss prevention issues were always present and not fun to deal with. Internal theft and shoplifting took up much of our time and patience. When I moved from one location to another, my appreciation for the job was constantly tested. I had likes and dislikes, but all in all I enjoyed the variety of tasks each day. It seemed that major adjustments involving store policy and procedures were almost nonexistent the first few years. As time progressed, major changes became second nature, and today we find ourselves overwhelmed with novel ideas and helpful shortcuts.
In the late ’60s and early ’70s, most communities had a Chamber of Commerce promotion called “Crazy Days.” After my first Crazy Days experience I looked forward to the following year. To be able to dress up a bit crazy, bargain with the customers, and receive a paycheck was more than I could ask. Today, the promotion is still in existence and used primarily to rid stores of leftover seasonal product as it was in the earlier years.
We used electric adding machines; the calculator and computer did not exist. Today, computer technology has changed retail, especially with increased efficiency, cost reductions and customer service.
The retail business that I knew allowed us to purchase almost anything that we could physically get in the store to sell: CB radios, commercial-size tools, and snow blowers to name a few.
The retail employee who has been working for any length of time will have experienced unusual and common predicaments. Each of us will process the end result differently. Some employees can handle critical situations and get a feeling of a job well done. Another employee may feel so uncomfortable that he or she will decide to find another job. Working in retail allows us to work with a broad range of individuals. Some are highly motivated, and hard work presents no obstacle. Others care less about the job and are waiting for another offer that better suits their interests. The better employees, if interested, eventually have an opportunity to try their hand as a supervisor or in various positions in management.
As I look back on a forty-six-year career in retail, I can say I thoroughly enjoyed the ride. Would I recommend it to our younger generation? I don’t know, but what the heck, give it a try.
Gerald Rivinius
Billings, Montana
November 2011
*****
STARK REALITY
IT WAS MY first week as a drug store manager in a quiet Iowa town. After five days on the job, I was in shock and disbelief.That first week in the Cedar Rapids Osco store changed my whole perception of retail and I’m quite certain had a profound effect on my retail career.
Not knowing what to expect on my first day was difficult. I had not been in this situation before. I was introduced to the store crew, and I acquainted myself with the store’s physical layout. My management team was first assistant Dave and second assistant Andy. Dave took his lunch break at 11:30, and as he was on his way to lunch he told me that he would be in the office, and while eating lunch he would watch through a one-way glass and catch a shoplifter. I didn’t pay much attention to his comments and continued with the daily workload and familiarizing myself with the store.
A half-hour later, I walked upstairs to the office and found Dave sitting at his desk with a shoplifter next to him. He called the police department and gave them the pertinent information. What a lucky coincidence to have this occur just as Dave said it would. The following day, Tuesday, at 11:30 again, Dave went to the office for lunch and told me where he was going. Again he made the comment that he would apprehend a shoplifter. I laughed this time when he said it but stopped laughing when he was filling out the paperwork and calling the police department for the second day in succession.
At first I thought that Dave was calling his friends to come in at 11:45 to pull a practical joke on the new manager. But when the police arrived at the store to fill out a crime report, I knew it was for real. The management team had a meeting and decided that Friday would be SHOPLIFTING DAY. We needed to focus on our problem to see just how serious it was.
On Friday morning the three of us came in much earlier than normal to finish all the regular tasks that needed to be done. When the store opened, our only concern was to make sure that all items leaving the store were paid for.It didn’t take long before we had the first offender in the office. We did the paperwork and called the police, and it was also their policy for us to deliver the evidence to the police department. Dave walked the stolen items over to the police department. While he was gone, Andy and I processed another, and Andy headed to the police department with the evidence. He met Dave on the bridge on his way back. Their destination was four or five blocks from the store. These encounters were so surreal that it was hard to comprehend what was happening.
When Dave returned to the store, I was filling out paperwork and getting the directions as to where the police department was because I was next in line to do the walk. During the day we apprehended thirteen perpetrators, and at this point I was fully aware that to make the store successful, changes had to be made. Most of the people apprehended were from other states and cities. We had a transient hotel fairly close to the store, and many of our problems arose from there.
What I didn’t know was that it was just the beginning!
*****
GETTING STARTED
WHEN I WAS a youngster, I had no thoughts of ever becoming a pharmacist, a store manager or even working in retail. A specific day was chosen for all of the juniors to come to class and tell the world what they would be doing someday. I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do, and I felt the instructor was putting undue pressure on me. I had to make a decision by Thursday, and I had one more day to decide.
I came home from school and my older sister, a nurse at our hometown hospital, was visiting our parents. I told her my problem, and she asked if I liked chemistry in high school and I said, “I do.”
Then she asked, “Why don’t you just go to pharmacy school?”
I said, “Okay”, and that was the end of that. My homework was completed, and I have never regretted my decision.
My parents put me through pharmacy school. In return, I worked each and every summer for my dad and my uncle doing field work in a small farming community in southwest North Dakota. I also had the opportunity to coach girls’ softball, boys’ Little League and the American Legion baseball team. This type of work I enjoyed, and the summer went by quickly.
I ATTENDED PHARMACY SCHOOL at North Dakota State in Fargo. In 1960, the school extended the pharmacy program to five years rather than four. I was a “lucky” recipient of the new regulation. I remember spending many hours doing lab work, especially with so many required chemistry courses. The dress code for male pharmacists required a white shirt and tie, or a white laboratory jacket or white smock. No jeans were allowed. The standards were set, and they were followed or else!
I remember one of my courses was especially interesting, because the instructor would make a casual statement during his lecture and make me feel that it was mandatory for me to find the answer by the following day. Few classes inspired me to want to learn more than what the course offered. His method of teaching gave me the incentive to learn beyond what was required.
One Friday after our class adjourned, he asked me to stay a few minutes. He had noticed that I was growing a beard, and he asked if I was attempting to characterize myself. Apparently, he felt I wanted to draw attention to myself. I told him that I had a friend, another pharmacy student, whose hometown was Biwabik, Minnesota. I mentioned that the city was having a big celebration in the summer and all the men were growing beards. I thought it would be fun to attend the celebration with him, so I was growing the beard. He went on to explain how a beard would not be appropriate for a pharmacist or a college student planning to become a pharmacist. He also indicated that the beard would be off before I attended another one of his classes. I immediately went to my dorm room and fired up the Remington electric razor. It took some time to get the whole beard removed, but I eventually finished the job. I felt his suggestions were a little harsh, and on top of that I burned out the razor and had to buy a replacement.
Since I’m from the old school, I understand the white shirt and tie, and also the no-beard policy. I see the need to set a standard and then adhere to it. Many times we will witness standards being set, and on a weekly basis the rules will change depending upon who has to maintain the standard. I believe that pharmacy school was a good training tool not only for working in the pharmacy but also for working in management. A goal is easier to attain if rules are instituted and followed by everyone.
AFTER FIVE YEARS of pharmacy school my career started at an independent Rexall drug store in Bismarck, North Dakota.The store was quite small compared with what you see today, but our backdoor entrance was adjacent to a large clinic, which allowed a thriving prescription business. My boss, the owner, was a well-established businessman of the community and also an officer with the State Pharmaceutical Association.
I worked directly with Roger, another pharmacist. Roger was hired while he was working at a grain elevator, and apparently Roger wasn’t sure he wanted to work in a pharmacy even after his pharmacy schooling. It just happened that it was a great opportunity for Roger as well as the owner. Roger helped me learn the procedures needed for filling prescriptions and explained in detail each step. His knowledge and help were fantastic.
In those days, there were so many pediatric liquids dispensed, and many of the medications we purchased were in large gallon glass jugs. It amazed me how my boss and Roger would pick up the full gallon jug in one hand and pour the liquid into a small four- or six-ounce glass container held in the other hand and never spill a drop.
Physicians would come into the pharmacy at all times during the day seeking Roger’s knowledge on new drugs and treatments. This allowed me to meet the doctors, and I would feel like I knew them when they would phone in a prescription.
Every two to three months, we would prepare for a huge Rexall Drug Sale. This sale was very important to the profitability of the store. We sold cases of aspirin, vitamins, cosmetics, and all the health necessities needed by our customers.
I will never forget my third day on the job. The script business was a little slow, so I wandered out on the floor and picked up a sports magazine. My boss had a little talk with me, and I can assure you I never, ever got remotely close to the magazines again. I found out in those few seconds of dialogue that I was there to work, and not to educate myself on current sports stories. My boss eventually had me working out front when times were slow. He even used me to communicate with some of our German customers. He knew I had some German background, but he didn’t know that the only German I knew was taught to me by two high school buddies. The German rhymes that they taught me are not suitable for publication in this book.
I shared a basement apartment with a high school friend who had a good job at the oil refinery in Mandan. We had roomy and clean living quarters, and the low rent ($37.50 per month) didn’t hurt, either. It just happened that Roger had a small apartment in the same basement. After working with Roger for a few months, I witnessed his intelligence in more than just his pharmacy capabilities. After work each day, he would have a nice dinner at a local hotel and do crossword puzzles. Some of our customers would tell me that they heard that Roger had never been stumped by a puzzle
Roger would tell me stories, but he liked to kid around a bit and at times I wasn’t sure if the story was 50 percent or 100 percent correct. The following story was one of them.
Roger warned me about a customer that may pop in any day or week and told me to be prepared. The customer was tall, muscular and had a menacing look. He was missing a large part of one ear that was bitten off in a fight. If he came in, I was told to make sure I handled him with kid gloves and didn’t anger him. Sure enough, three weeks later I’m typing out an RX and I hear, “Hey, there, fill my prescription,” in a loud voice. I turned around and there the man was in our pharmacy, standing three feet from me with the ear part missing, just as Roger had told me. I asked him for the prescription number and hoped he would change his mind, leave and allow me a little space. He wanted his prescription filled, but he didn’t have the prescription number with him.
About the time I told him that I would find the prescription number, he shot across the pharmacy and pointed to a bottle of pills in a gray container. “I think those are the ones. Hand me the bottle.” I put the bottle in his oversize hands, thinking if I didn’t I would have an ear removed also. He immediately opened the bottle, took out a pill and threw it in his mouth.
I knew that this was not the proper procedure for filling prescriptions, but everything happened so quickly. He seemed to be getting the taste of the tablet rather than swallowing, and he started for the door. He shouted, “That’s it. Give me 100 of them. I’ll be back in an hour to pick them up.” I found his prescription on file and it matched the one he had tasted. I proceeded to fill the bottle with 99 more tablets, and I was very happy the prescription was filled and he was gone. The customer came back a few hours later, picked up his prescription and was off. I told Roger about the encounter when he arrived for work the next morning, and I’m positive he laughed for half the day.
IN THE 1940s and ’50s, many of the Rexall stores had a soda fountain. You could purchase your favorite ice cream dish, malted milks of all flavors and various drinks. Lemon sour and chocolate soda drinks were a big hit. If you wanted the sour to be more intense, you could pour in a few drops of a colorless liquid that sat on the counter like a bottle of Ketchup sits on counters today. Your drink would become more and more sour and made the lemon sour especially pleasing on a very hot day.
Soon after I started working at the store, Roger told me how the use of the soda fountain and medical treatment worked hand in hand. Our pharmacy’s back entrance was very close to the health clinic, which gave us access to many patients. Customers scheduled for X-ray work the next morning would come into our store with a prescription for some concoction that needed to be mixed with Coca-Cola. The cocktail was consumed at the soda fountain. The patients would go home and wait for the drink to cleanse their system. Unfortunately for many patients, the active ingredient worked early, and the customer never made it in time to our basement bathroom. Thank goodness medical treatment has improved dramatically!
ONE OF THE secondary jobs that Roger and I handled at the store was sweeping leaves and cigarette butts off the sidewalks. We would take turns, as this was a way to get some exercise and for Roger, who smoked, an opportunity to light up. When the summer gave way to winter, the outside project was shoveling snow.
Many days, Roger would get to the store a half-hour before me, and one particular morning I received an early phone call from him. “You don’t need to come in. As you can see from the amount of snow we received during the night. I don’t think you could make it here anyway and I’m not sure if I can make it back to the apartment.” Roger eventually made it back to his apartment after getting stuck in the snow a few times.
It started snowing hard on a Thursday morning. The snowstorm did not let up until Sunday. Finally, on Monday morning, I was able to make it to the store. Our apartment was adjacent to a high-traffic road that had been cleared of snow. Downtown was a sight to behold. As luck would have it, it was my turn to do the snow shoveling. I started shoveling and shoveling, and from what I could see, I thought it would take weeks for all of the downtown snow to be removed. There were places where the snow was piled ten to fifteen feet high. I asked Roger to come outside to see what I discovered. “What do you see as you look up and down the streets?” I asked. Roger replied, “Snow and more snow.”
The four-day snowstorm took its toll. All the cars that were parked on the streets on Wednesday night were still there. You could not see a radio antenna, a fender or the top of any of the cars. It was amazing to see all that snow. By the way, Roger helped me with the rest of the shoveling, and it took us a few days to finish the job.
I WAS BORN and grew up in a small town with a population of nearly a thousand. It had everything we wanted except for a swimming pool, so we made many trips to the river for our summertime fun. The Cannonball River was three miles south of town, and occasionally for fun we would ride our bikes to the river and back one at a time. We would leave a rock on the bridge for the next biker to bring back to prove he went all the way. We used a watch to see which one could do it in the least amount of time. As youngsters, we were physically in good shape. Our parents never worried about abduction to prevent us from being on time for a meal or a 9 o’clock curfew.
I imagine I was a third-grader when a friend of mine and I were walking in a downtown alley and spotted this beautiful white convertible that had just been delivered to the Chevy dealer. We stood looking at the car in amazement for quite some time but thought it was out of the question that we would ever get a chance to ride in one. One of the mechanics working at the garage hopped into the driver’s seat and asked if we wanted a ride. We were in the car in a second and savoring a ride of approximately thirty to forty feet. This experience was like winning free Hershey bars for a year.
Now, as a pharmacist, I thought I could afford one of those Chevy Corvettes. I owned a nice car at the time, but I thought I could trade it in and have something I had always desired. I headed down to the Chevy dealer and looked at a number of cars and found one I had to have. This was a big decision, for it would be my largest purchase ever. I signed all the paperwork with some reservation, and the salesman could recognize my reluctance. As soon as I signed the final form, the man said, “Well, you have no way out now; you bought it, young man!” I think he was joking a little with the statement, but it annoyed me anyway.
Sitting there a little stunned, I said, “Sir, if this is how we make a deal, then I certainly will not tell you what major problems my trade-in has.” He immediately came out of his joking mood and asked what type of problems I was talking about. I sat still for quite a few seconds, didn’t say a word and then looked at him very seriously and told him that I had a light flicker in the dashboard once.
We both smiled and snickered, and I drove off with my $4,900, white, 1966 convertible Corvette Stingray. Five years later and married with a one-year-old daughter, I sold the car for $1,200.
Today on the Internet, the car sells for $125,000. I’m quite sure this car should have been a keeper.
*****
NATIONAL CHAIN
I ENJOYED MY first year on the job as a pharmacist. I learned much and became very confident in what I was doing. I felt that I would be a pharmacist for Rexall the rest of my life, or at least until retirement. Working for another company was never on my mind until I was offered a job by an Osco Drug district manager. I had met him a year earlier when he did job interviews at the college. I had great respect for the company and its low prices. Many of the pharmacists were my college classmates. I accepted the position, and on July 4th, I was driving to my new job with Osco Drug in Grand Forks, North Dakota.
It seems that the first few days or weeks of a new job are very memorable, possibly because anxiety and fear are at work. The night of the 4th, I stayed at some motel close to work and was told that the night before there had been a homicide at the motel. Back in the ’60s that was almost unheard of in that community or almost any town in North Dakota. I was finding that life has its ups and downs, and we remember the downs more than the ups.
On Monday, July 5th, I entered the store, talked with the store manager and met all the employees. The store had been flooded in the late spring from a rising river just out the back door. The cement floor in the basement buckled from high water pressure and flooded the basement to the four- or five-foot level. Most all the merchandise had to be destroyed, and as I looked out the back door for the first time, the trash dumps were being filled by the store associates. The last of the destroyed product was about to go when the manager asked if I wanted three cases of shaving cream. My recollection was how lucky I was to work for a generous company like this! (However, I shaved with an electric razor and eventually threw out all seventy-two cans.)
The store had flood possibilities yearly, and each year presented unique situations. One spring, each of the employees would take a shift through the night to watch for rising water. If the sump pump hole filled to a certain level, we would hit a switch that turned on a giant motor to discharge the water into the street next to the store. Today, this store is not in existence due to the devastating flood in the spring of 1997.
THE CAMERA DEPARTMENT was adjacent to the pharmacy. In those days, the pharmacy was not enclosed, and we had a swinging door between the pharmacy and the camera lobby. When the prescription business was slower, I would go next door to learn and help with the camera and repair business.
It must have been my first or second week on the job when the pharmacy was slower, and I wandered next door to help out. The phone rang and it happened to be a physician whom I had spoken with the day before. He called in eight prescriptions, and they all came very fast, much faster than I had ever received in the past. I had no paper and just a No. 2 lead pencil that I found lying on the counter. I squatted down on the floor and scribbled each prescription on a separate box of 107 black-and-white Polaroid film. I was in a deep sweat and my heart rate had to be at 200. I wanted the physician to know I could handle the speed and details of the prescriptions.
When the doctor finished only half of the eighth script, he stopped and asked if his slide projector had come back from repair. Before I could inquire further or answer him, he hung up. I was embarrassed, to say the least. I sat there on the floor for a few seconds to regain my composure. I stood up and saw the Polaroid film packages sprawled over a three-foot area. I examined each script on the film to check the accuracy.
Now I had to call the physician for the information missing on the eighth prescription, and I would inform him that the slide projector was ready to be picked up. As I was heading back to the pharmacy to make the call, Joe, the assistant manager, asked me how things were going. I started to explain the situation and soon he was laughing so hard he almost fell on the floor. When he saw the eight packs of Polaroid film, I think he did hit the floor. He confessed that he called in the eight scripts from our basement phone. He said, “This is your initiation to your new job.” My brain again had a blood supply, and a towel removed the sweat and embarrassment from my face. I had no idea that someday I might look back at this and say, “What a great practical joke,” even if it was played on me.
MANY OF THE employees at the Grand Forks store were college students who were smart and eager to help themselves through school. Don was one of the better workers, very outgoing, and he liked to joke around and make people laugh. He was all business on the sales floor but always had something going on the side. One day when he was preparing for his shift, we noticed him putting a small toy cap gun in his smock pocket. It looked much different than the ones I played with when I was growing up. We asked what he was up to. He took us to the basement and displayed his toy six-shot, high-powered revolver. The ammunition was a 6 shot cartridge of caps that loaded fast and prevented the bad guys from getting away. Don shot off a few rounds, which sounded much like a real gun as fire flared out near the hammer. We were all intrigued by the novelty and soon all of us guys, including the assistant manager, were carrying the exact same toy model in our smock pocket. It must have given us some sense of security or a need for superiority even though it was a small toy gun. When we were off the floor on a break we would shoot off a few rounds so we didn’t get rusty.
One day, four of us hatched a plan while we were in the dark basement. We crawled into four large empty boxes near the path to the bathroom. We were sure Don would put on his smock and head that way prior to his work shift. We were ready and snickering in the boxes, especially when we heard him coming down the stairs. About the only light we could see was an electric clock above the receiving desk and a dull light coming from the steps. As he approached the boxes, we saw only his silhouette because of the extreme darkness. Four armed bandits hopped up and in a split second blazed twenty-four thunderous rounds. The sparks and fire from the weapons illuminated Don’s face, and we could see his grotesque expression. He proceeded to the bathroom, but at a much faster pace than normal. Afterward, Don reciprocated many times!
WHEN I WAS in college and during the first few years working in a pharmacy, I had such a huge appetite. On many occasions when I would work the night shift, the assistant manager and I would walk to a restaurant four or five blocks from the store. We both enjoyed ham and cabbage. Each trip to this restaurant I ordered the same and enjoyed it immensely.
But when I went out to eat by myself, I would walk one block north of the store. The very first time I ate at this mom-and-pop café, I fell in love with the spaghetti and meat sauce. I must have been extremely hungry because I raved about the food a number of times to the waitress. Since I was single, I had a little extra money and gave her a sizeable tip. The following week I was back, and it just happened that the same waitress was taking my order. I told her how much I enjoyed the spaghetti the previous week and that I must have it again. When the meal arrived I noticed that the portion was much larger than the week before. I was happy about the large plate and made sure I left a large tip. As weeks went by the same waitress helped me, and each time the plate and amount was larger. I always cleaned the plate to show I appreciated the food as well as the quantity. As time went on and the enormous plate of spaghetti continued, I started to feel like a circus freak. I would look up periodically when I was eating to see if the cook and the waitress were watching me. I thought they may be taking bets as to which trip my stomach would explode. I wasn’t sure if they would call the ambulance and then clean up the mess or make another wager in regard to the total pounds of spaghetti involved.
I don’t think the spaghetti and meat sauce were a conspiracy to test the will of a hungry pharmacist. I do remember the enjoyment I received from that small café. Today when we eat at Olive Garden, I almost always have the spaghetti and meat sauce. I would like to think that my selection has something to do with my early years as a pharmacist.
FILLING PRESCRIPTIONS WAS my job, but when I needed a lunch or dinner break, many times the store manager would cover for an hour. In the late 1960s, almost all managers were also pharmacists, which made it easy for mealtime coverage.
This particular day was no different than any other, I thought, until I returned an hour later. We dispensed many pediatric medications that were in liquid form, and the ones we carried were in pint bottles. I may have had ten bottles of the same medication in a storage cabinet readily available as the others were emptied. When I returned to the pharmacy, I witnessed a somewhat befuddled manager, who was not happy at all. There were six emptied bottles of different medications. The bottles were sitting on the counter with a note on each saying, “where the h--- is MORE?” Apparently he was not able to find the excess stock in the readily available cabinet to fill the waiting prescriptions. When I opened a bottle I would write on the bottle MORE, meaning there was more available, but I failed to inform the manager where MORE was. He was not happy, and I learned that organization and communication were essential.
A few years later, as a store manager, I found myself in a similar situation when covering lunch for one of the pharmacists. Twenty minutes or so into the lunch hour, I received six prescriptions, and I could not find any medication to fill any of them. I looked everywhere and found nothing. This was very unprofessional and upsetting. When I could not find the medications, I looked for the pharmacy order pad so I could list the needed items for ordering the following morning. When the pharmacist returned, I told him of my quandary and asked where the order form was. He pointed to his head, meaning that all needed items were in his memory bank. I immediately went to the office supply table and picked out a large notebook and then headed to the basement to get the largest chain I could find. I attached one end of the chain to the large notebook and then bolted the other end to a panel just below the pharmacy telephone. Our out-of-stock situation improved dramatically with the use of the order pad, and we didn’t have to rely on memory alone.
IF YOU WERE working the late shift you started at noon and worked till nine p.m. One night was very exciting, to say the least. The manager and his wife came into the store about ten to nine. They were almost running to the pharmacy with a worried look on their faces. “Jerry, come with us outside! There is a dead person in front of the local jewelry store!” We all ran out and sure enough a man was lying there, unresponsive to my poking and prodding. We knew we had a problem on our hands and needed to call the police and ambulance. As we rose from our knees to make the call, I inhaled a hefty alcohol odor. I said,” I think this guy has had it,” and at that time the man responded, “You got that one right!” It was great to have some humor injected into a tense situation. Thank goodness for false alarms.
MANY CITIES ACROSS the country have a promotion called Crazy Days. Most of the time it is held in the fall after the summer seasonal sales began to dwindle. It’s a time for the stores to get rid of the leftover seasonal product, such as picnic jugs, pool toys, fishing equipment and much more. We wanted to make room for the arrival of Halloween, Thanksgiving and other holiday goods. We would place the close-out product in stacks on tables in front of our stores. Everyone would dress up in some weird costume and proceed through the day thinking they were somewhat normal. Even though I was a pharmacist, I was given the opportunity to work the tables outside the store and get involved in non-pharmacy activities. We were given the authority from management to bargain with the customers on the sale price.
It was fantastic from both a business and a customer point of view. The business sold its excess product and regained needed backroom storage space, but made far less margin. The customer appreciated getting a rod-and-reel or lawn sprinkler for less than half price. One year we attached special coupons for free items to paper plates and threw them off the roof of our building. And, in the customer’s eagerness to reach the flying paper plates, we found that this procedure worked only until participants started fighting for the paper plates. Often with a customer's enthusiasm to reach the flying paper plates, a few of the tables and products were destroyed. We kept the image in our Crazy Days memory book and skipped the plate promotion the following years.
ONE DAY IN May 1969 I had been looking forward to for a few weeks. I enjoyed pharmacy work, but I was also intrigued by the duties of management personnel. When I had a day off, I would come to the store to visit with the assistant manager, a good friend. He would talk about management duties and responsibilities, which sounded more exciting than filling prescriptions. My main objective at the store was to learn how to do the books. The assistant manager went to the safe and brought me the receipts from the previous day. My job was to count all the cash and checks (credit cards were not in use at the time) from each register drawer, and compare the total receipts to what was needed to balance. The register was either right on, short or long.
I thought this procedure would be done in thirty to sixty minutes, until I turned on the radio. I believe this particular day was a Saturday, and a few days earlier we had been told about this college adventure called Zip to Zap. Zap, North Dakota would be the student’s destination. This was much like the spring trips the students took to Daytona Beach or Fort Lauderdale, Florida. We had seen cars with out-of-state license plates drive by our downtown store with painted signs on their cars reading “Zip to Zap.” Since we had college students working at the store, we were clued in to a certain degree.
The radio reporter was live from Zap, North Dakota. Because I was listening and also trying to do the books, I found it hard for any of the registers to balance. Some of them I counted several times. I was thinking about what a good time our college associates might be having if they were attending the Zap celebration. The reporter came back on after some local commercial and stated that a fire truck had been overturned in downtown Zap. I figured that alcohol must be the reason the truck was turned. By now, I knew I had recounted the money four or five times and became quite frustrated. Not only was the fire truck turned over, but it was on fire. The reporter had me in his back pocket.
In the three-day event organized by a student at North Dakota State in Fargo, thousands of students traveled from far and near to the small town to celebrate. “Zip to Zap” is the only official riot in North Dakota history that was put down by the National Guard.
South Dakota students later attempted a similar diversion, called “Whip to White.” I believe it was attended by six-hundred students, and no fire trucks were destroyed, and no riots were reported.
WHEN STORE PERSONNEL ordered health and beauty aid items in the late ’60s, the process involved far more time and effort than it does today. All purchases were written on order forms and then sent by mail to the company representative or directly to a distribution center. The product would arrive two to three weeks later; we would mark it with a sales ticket and place it on our shelves. This process was repeated over and over for most all of the products sold in the store.
Today, 95 percent of all items sold are delivered on a truck direct from the company’s warehouse, and each item has an exact spot in a store. Before, if we received cosmetic product we just placed it anywhere in the cosmetic section. Twice a year, after store hours, we would reset all the departments using only memory and good guesses. The best-selling items were the first to go, and the remaining items were the slow sellers. This presented a major challenge to remember to reorder the best sellers without going through the entire set of order forms each time. After a little time, we took photographs of every 4-foot section with a Polaroid camera. Using color film, we could recognize the Bayer aspirin or Preparation H suppositories (possibly two of the best-selling items in the late ’60s), so we would know exactly where they were meant to go. Today, with the aid of computers, planograms are made for every 4-foot section of the store. The computer knows the exact size, shape and color of each item. Merchandise is then placed in the proper category, and the shelf location fits the store’s traffic flow.
I transferred to a store with a very progressive manager. His idea was to place a label below the item on the shelf to identify each item. What a concept! We mounted typewriters on a flat board attached to a shopping cart and hurried up and down the aisles to label the whole store one item at a time. Today this process is all done by computer technology, complete with UPC scan bars and inventory control built right in.
The ultimate goal in a retail store is to never be out of stock. A Dr. Scholl’s salesman once told me that if the men’s size 8-to-10 insoles were out of stock for a whole year, this would be equivalent to losing the total profit we would create from our yearly toothpaste sales. I took this to heart and attempted the best I could to always have product to sell.
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ASSISTANT MANAGER
STORE MANAGEMENT TEAMS mostly consisted of a manager, first assistant and second assistant. In 1969, I was promoted from my pharmacy job to the second assistant position and transferred to a store in South Dakota. Even though we were expecting our first child, we were happy for the opportunity. Our daughter was born in November, and three years later in July our second daughter was born in the same Watertown hospital.
I enjoyed filling prescriptions but found that management offered a variety of duties that changed daily. I felt I was prepared for this position due to the additional duties I performed at the Grand Forks store. I was well-versed in the camera department and knowledgeable about transistor radios, slide projectors and electric adding machines. The drug and cosmetic resets we did late at night after store hours gave me an appreciation for and knowledge of the most important categories of the drugstore. Doing the books during the "Zip to Zap" diversion taught me that concentration helps if you want correct results.
On my first day I arrived at the store at 8 a.m. and was met at the front door by Rich, the first assistant manager. After hellos and some small talk, we headed to the back of the store. I was given a set of keys, and Rich explained what each opened. One was for a trash room that opened from the inside of the backroom. The room also had an outside door that was opened by personnel from a garbage company a few times a week. I was then given the combination to the safe and told that I would be closing the store that evening and opening in the morning. I was quite sure I would be expected to take on added responsibilities but was not aware they would come this quickly. Rich had been opening and closing the store alone for a few weeks and needed some time off for rest and time with his family. The store manager, Russell, came from the upstairs office, showed me around the store and introduced me to the crew. We talked about work projects in the store and what needed our attention in the next few days. I felt the employees were super, and most of them had been with the company a lot longer than I. Later in the afternoon, he asked if I could meet him and Rich after I closed the store that evening. We were to meet at a bar burger joint whose owner had a daughter who baby-sat Russell’s young child. Russell wanted the three of us to get to know each other, and he wanted me to feel like I was part of the management team.
I arrived at the small bar at 9:30 and saw that we were the only ones in the place other than Sam, the owner. We sat in a booth and talked about our families and the store. I was impressed with Russell and Rich and felt I had made a good decision to go into management.
Sam came over to the booth and pulled up a chair at the end of the table. While we were making small talk, the back door flew open and a man came through the door shouting, “I’m dying! I’m dying!” He was only fifteen to twenty feet from our booth, his face was all bloodied, and his glasses were smashed and broken. He did not look good as he hit the floor, and he didn’t move a muscle or make another sound. The three of us were in a state of shock, but Sam didn’t turn around once to see who it was or even get slightly excited. While the guy was slumped there, Sam talked about trivial things, and we were wondering if he was going to check to see if we had to call an ambulance or a hearse. A few more minutes went by and then we heard a loud groan or two and the man slowly stood up and stumbled out the back door. Apparently, Sam had recognized the voice from previous occurrences. It was not a big deal for Sam, but I felt relieved that the man was alive and out of my life.
I wanted to get to the store early enough the next day so I could remove the register drawers from the safe and be ready when the rest of the crew came in. As I unlocked the front door, I felt important, and I achieved another step toward becoming a store manager. I locked the door behind me and proceeded to the back room, where I was met with a thrashing sound coming from the trash room. I found the key Rich had given me and opened the door, and to my wondering eyes I saw a man scooping out the trash into his truck in the alley. Yes, the same man (with beat-up face and taped-together glasses) from the burger joint the night before. “Great,” I thought. “What’s next?!”
BEFORE MY PROMOTION, I enjoyed working on all sorts of projects even though during work hours I was a pharmacist. I especially liked ordering product with the aid of stock cards. Each item in a category was listed on a card, and inventory of each item was taken. The stock card had the previous count on hand and the quantity ordered. After finishing the count and writing up the order, you could see if the department sales were increasing or decreasing. It amazed me to see that the more attention you gave to the category of goods, the more successful it became. I enjoyed the purchasing and selling of goods and figured that this pretty much encompassed the role of management.