Last days of Toys R Us recall first days of work

The demise of Toys R Us unleashed a logjam of thoughts and memories, many forgotten for more than two decades. My life once intersected with the store frequently, albeit rarely in the last decade. When I collected action figures, it was the big-box store of choice. As I sold off my collection and moved on, I lost any reason to visit.

When we lived in rural Georgia in the mid-1980s, our monthly runs to Macon culminated with a stop at Toys R Us.  I lived for those stops, knowing that if we behaved, I'd likely leave with a Star Wars or G.I. Joe action figure. That was sweeter than ice cream.

If anything sticks out, it was the telescope. I had Halley's Comet Fever and badly wanted a telescope of my own. I got one at Christmas, but the many lens never worked. After my Dad spent a chilly evening swearing at the telescope when we joined a local astronomy group watching the comet, we brought it back for store credit. It was not replaced. My astronomy dreams faded as swiftly as comet on its outbound path to the outer solar system. But that happens in retail.

My closest TRU connection came later - the short months during high school’s senior year when they employed me. I held down my first job through the 1994-95 holidays, when Toys R Us occupied a thriving store on Mentor Avenue across the street from the Great Lakes Mall. No one shopped on the Internet in 1994, and malls were still the nexus of suburban life during cold northeast Ohio winters.

The employees were friendly and willing to help a newcomer as clueless as me. There were plenty of hardworking people under that roof. I mostly worked the register and restocked shelves. The starting salary was a whopping $4.50 an hour, 25 cents above minimum wage. When I cashed my first check for $78, I felt like a millionaire. I could buy two CDs at Record Den and not wince. I bought the first decent Christmas presents for my family.

I could work the register for a six-hour shift (they wouldn’t let anyone 18 and under work eight hours without a lunch, so I ended up with shorter hours and just getting a 15-minute break) and not look up. The steady pace of customers never relented on the weekends. One time the register, a relatively primitive computer, began to show severe problems and four hours and many requests to managers passed before they realized that I told the truth. Of course, the head manager said, “Bill, you broke this register.” I didn’t get fired, but didn’t think he was joking either.

Was it fun? Not in the least. People are terrible, especially to a teenager trying figure out a register or why an item wouldn’t scan. People would not understand that pickup on large items like bicycles occurred at a counter behind the store, not in the back of the store. Even asking for a ZIP code as part of some information gathering would set off testier holiday shoppers.

The day after Christmas, the returns flooded in. Management reversed the lines of three registers to cope with the volume. At the regular registers, we dealt with people who received Geoffrey Dollars for returns without receipts.

Dealing with the public wore on me. I placed nice, and rarely spoke out of turn, even when berated for ringing up the wrong item or processing a check incorrectly (lots of checks in the mid-1990s before the ubiquity of debit cards).

They cut me loose with the other seasonal employees in mid-January, right before inventory. I didn’t mind. I never expected the job to stick. once the store’s busiest season ended. Aside from the money, I didn’t miss the job.

Thanks to Toys R Us, that taste of working retail at Christmas never really left me. Retail or restaurant work should be required as a rite of passage, although it feels like the former is rapidly slipping away as big chains like Toys R Us disappear.