My First Shift is a Disaster

The automatic doors slid open with a cheerful chime that felt completely at odds with the dread in my stomach.

Why did I ever agree to this?

The fluorescent lights of the convenience store buzzed faintly overhead, illuminating rows of neatly stacked snacks, drinks, and magazines. It looked harmless enough. But to me—Ryota Aizawa, sixteen, high school student—this place was about to become a battlefield.

“Ah, you must be the new hire.”

The voice came from behind the counter. A girl in the same school uniform as mine—blue blazer, white shirt, ribbon tied neatly—was scanning items with practiced ease. Her long black hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her expression was calm, almost bored.

I blinked. “Takahashi…? From Class 1-B?”

She looked up, and for the first time, I saw her eyes sharpen with amusement. “Oh. We go to the same school. Good. That’ll make training easier.”

Wait. Miyu Takahashi? She is usually quiet at school, but now she looked slightly different—confident, almost smug.

“Don’t just stand there,” she said, tossing me an apron. “Shift starts now.”

And just like that, my nightmare began.

“Okay, first lesson: the register. It’s simple. Scan, bag, take money, give change. Even my dog can do this.”

Easy for you to say.

The first customer was a middle-aged woman buying bread and milk. Easy enough. I scanned the items, bagged them, and smiled nervously.

“That’ll be… uh…” I glanced at the screen. Numbers swam before my eyes. “Four thousand yen?”

The woman frowned. “It says 420.”

“Oh. Right. Haha. Just testing you.” My laugh came out strangled.

I handed her change—too much change. She gave me a look that could curdle milk, then left without another word.

Behind me, Miyu sighed. “Congratulations. You’ve already lost the store money.”

I wanted to melt into the ground.

The next customer nearly gave me a heart attack.

He was tall, hunched, with a permanent scowl carved into his face. His cane tapped against the floor as he approached the counter. He slammed a carton of strawberry milk down in front of me.

I froze. This is it. we're about to be robbed.

“W-what… uh… that’ll be—”

“Don’t talk so much,” he growled.

I fumbled with the register, nearly dropping the carton. My hands shook as I handed him his change. He snatched it, stuffed the milk into his coat, and shuffled out without another word.

I exhaled shakily. “That guy’s terrifying.”

Miyu smirked. “Mr. Tanaka? He comes by every day. Always buys strawberry milk. Without fail. “…Strawberry milk?”

“Yeah. Don’t let the glare fool you. He’s basically a kid at heart.”

I stared at the door where the old man had vanished. Somehow, that made him even scarier.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, a man in his thirties stumbled out of the back room. His uniform shirt was untucked, his hair messy, and he was holding a cup of instant ramen.

“Ah, the new kid,” he said, yawning. “Don’t die on your first day, okay?”

“Uh… thanks?”

“This is Manager Sato,” Miyu explained flatly. “Don’t expect much.”

“Hey, that’s rude,” Sato said, slurping noodles. “You should expect just enough.”

He patted my shoulder. “Piece of advice, kid. Customers are like the weather. Sometimes sunny, sometimes stormy. Just keep standing.”

“Ahh, that’s enough wisdom for one day.”

Then he wandered back into the storage room and shut the door.

“…Does he always do that?” I asked.

“Pretty much,” Miyu said. “Get used to it.”

By the time evening rolled around, I’d survived a dozen small disasters: dropping a basket of instant noodles, miscounting coins, and accidentally bowing to a vending machine.

But the final straw came when a group of middle schoolers stormed in, laughing and shouting. They bought armfuls of candy, energy drinks, and magazines. I tried to keep up, but the register beeped angrily at me.

“Uh… Miyu? Help?”

She stepped in smoothly, scanning items at lightning speed, bagging them with practiced grace. The kids left, still laughing.

I slumped against the counter. “I’m hopeless.”

Miyu glanced at me, then smirked. “You’re not completely hopeless. You lasted the whole shift.”

“…That’s supposed to be encouraging?”

She shrugged. “You’ll get better. Maybe.”

For the first time all day, I saw her smile—not the polite one from school, but a real, amused smile. And somehow, that made the disaster feel a little less humiliating.

The shift finally ended. I stepped outside, the cool night air washing over me. The neon glow of the store sign buzzed behind us.

Miyu walked beside me, her ponytail swaying. For a moment, she looked less like the sharp senpai from the store and more like the quiet girl from school again.

“You did okay,” she said softly.

I blinked. “Really?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” She smirked again, but her tone was gentler.

As we parted ways, I couldn’t help but think: maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad after all.