A few months before I turned 18 I decided to get a seasonal cashier job over the Christmas period. I wasn't really sure how to go about finding a cashier job, but a friend suggested just going into stores and asking for application forms, so I did. I went to probably the biggest shopping street in London and decided where I would like to work most. This was a no brainer for me, as my life revolved around music. I'd get a job in a big record store, heaven!

So I got an application form from customer services, went to a nearby McDonalds and filled out the form. It was probably the easiest application I have ever filled in, because yeah, it wanted to know about my prior work experience (not counting a dull week spent in the accounts department of a photographic firm, I had none!), but it wanted to know about my musical preferences, what were the last 3 gigs I had been to, and generally what did I love most about music. I could have easily completed an essay or two for them.

I went back to the large record store, handed my application form in and went home. After browsing the vinyl section for an hour or so, of course.

A week or so later I got a call from the record store asking me to come in for an interview. I wasn't nervous about this, but I did feel a bit like a kid going into a very big sweet store and having the temptations of potentially putting all my wages back into the company, if I got the job. See, I knew I'd get the job. Sure, I had never been a cashier before, but what I didn't know about contemporary music back then, wasn't worth knowing.

Sure enough, they focused very little on my lack of cashier experience - though I think I did actually lie and say that I had worked at a family restaurant as a cashier on my application form. They asked me about my favourite bands, what album releases was I looking forward to, what was the best gig I had ever seen?

My thinking was that they could show anyone how to use a cash register, but they couldn't teach the knowledge I had about music. What if a customer was looking for recommendations?

The interview went swimmingly and they appeared to be very impressed at my musical knowledge. Especially due to my mere 17 years of being on the planet. A day later I got a call telling me that I had the job.

When I arrived for my first day of work I was handed a sweatshirt in the company colour with the logo on it. I didn't think much about it at the time, it was only when I got home to a hygienically concerned mother, that I was informed I only had one sweatshirt to wear for the 3 month duration I would be working there. I can't say I was too concerned about this as I always wore another shirt under the sweatshirt, but my mum was not happy about me wearing the same top 6 days a week for 3 months.

I asked one of the back room staff if I could get another shirt and was told that it was company policy to only supply one. This led to my first and only encounter of stealing (if you discount the barbeque fork when I was camping). I went into the store office, found a box of sweatshirts and stole one. Technically as I stole it from the back of the store it wasn't shoplifting, and besides, it was a matter of hygiene! I now had 2 unflattering sweatshirts to rotate.

My mother made me do it! And do you know what? When I got home that night after my excursion into the world of crime, she told me I should get some more.

The store layout isn't the same now as when I worked there. It's much more cashier friendly these days. When I did my 3 month stint, the cash registers were all in a long line to the side of the entrance. The entrance had no doors, and was just a large hole in the shop front that had a huge shutter which would come down when we closed.

During the Christmas period and thus, the winter, standing at the cash registers was a cold affair. If you were unlucky enough to be at the far right of the line, and next to the entrance, when it snowed you would feel it on your skin as the wind blew it in. It was so cold that some cashiers wore gloves. I tried but I couldn't hit the right buttons on the cash register and the scanner kept falling out of my hand. There were plenty of comedic moments in my 3 months at that record store.

Another thing about being so near to the entrance was the constant hunger pains due to the caramelised nut stall right outside. A constant sweet sugary smell would waft in and torment the olfactory system for 8 hours a day.

As a seasonal staff member I didn't get a discount, but I more than made up for that thanks to the world of criminals! If you got a credit, debit or cheque card that there was a problem with, you would have to call through to a place that verified the cards for you. I forget the ins and outs of how it worked, but basically, if you caught someone with a card that had been reported stolen, you had to cut it up in front of the customer.

The perks of doing so? £50 per cut up card! I have to say, I don't know why they all seemed to choose me to serve them, but I made quite a few hundred pounds thanks to those criminals during the 3 months I worked there.

As a huge music lover, one of the most fun parts of the job was getting to request songs from the in house DJ. He sat in a huge see through bubble in the center of the store and we would call him from the cashier phone and tell him what we wanted to hear. It was just a little something to make the day pass. Some of the full timers would be a bit naughty and request songs relevant to customers who had just walked in. I seem to remember hearing Queen's Fat Bottomed Girl's quite a lot during my time there.

For me, the best thing about being a cashier was on the days when it was so busy that the store had to have 2 people per cash register. There were some real characters who worked there and I used to enjoy working with this one guy who was called Malcom. Every time I worked with him I laughed hysterically from the moment work began to the time my shift ended. Malcom was a funny guy, unintentionally. I just used to look at him and laugh, and it made serving customers quite difficult, because I wouldn't be able to speak, I'd just be scanning things and laughing my head off.

I'm not quite sure what those customers thought. Probably that this big name record store had taken to employing mentally challenged people, but they certainly got service with a smile regardless.

The thing that made me laugh so much about Malcom was that he would play this guessing game with himself. Every single time a customer came to pay, he would guess what they had bought before they got to the counter. He said that he always did it, but that it was more fun when I was there because he had someone to play along. I never did play along, I just laughed hysterically as everytime he would guess and everytime he'd be wrong.

"she's buying a janet jackson CD!"

In reality, the woman bough a book on classic music.

"he's buying a Iron Maiden shirt!!!"

He bought a Cliff Richard CD.

It went on an on with every customer and Malcom got more excited about his guessing game as the day progressed. He was never once right and so I took to calling him Mystic Malcolm in irony. Thing is, I wasn't mocking him, it was just an in joke, but Malcolm was thrilled with his nickname. That just made me laugh all the more.

The one day that I was so glad I was working alone was when an elderly man approached me and asked where the video section was. He was very, very smartly dressed, and I guess in today's terms would be considered quite bling. He had this young female amazonian like creature with him, blonde, tall, thin, enhanced? Quite scantily clad.

I told him where the video section was and thought that was the last I'd see of them both as they would probably pay on the video floor, if they found what they wanted. Boy did they find what they wanted!

Just back from a scheduled break a guy approached my counter with a basket of let's just say, adult films. He says he'll be back in a minute. So now I've got other customers approaching and a basket filled to the brim with those videos on my counter. So I quickly hide it at my feet. I serve a few customers and the guy who brought the basket is now in the queue with yet more baskets and the old guy with the girl.

When they get to the front of the queue it's quite apparent that they have at least 4 more baskets filled with exactly the same stuff. To say I felt uneasy is an understatement, but I was just so thankful that Malcom wasn't working with me playing his guessing game.

"they're buying............ OH"

I could just imagine me serving these people and laughing hysterically as other customers looked on in horror.

So I began scanning the items, and I was still scanning well over 5 minutes later. All the other cashiers kept giving me shify eyed looks and I was becoming more embarrassed my the second. Finally, I had bagged all the items and saw the total on my cash register. I'm pretty certain that the bill was for nearly £4000. The old guy hands over his platinum American Express card and I complete the sordid transation. Off the 3 of them went with the young guy weighed down with the countless bags. Once they were out of view, my fellow cashiers all gave me a round of applause and pats on the back.

"I don't know how you did that without laughing!"

Me either, all I knew was that I wanted a bath. Being a cashier had gotten sleazy!