It’s My First Time Working Late Nights at a Convenience Store, and If I Keep Getting Demon Lords, Kappa and Other Oddballs as Customers, I’m Giving My Two-Weeks’ Notice
This is my fifth night working the register at the convenience store.
In exchange for emptying out my wallet, I can breathe a sigh of relief...knowing that the demon lord shouldn’t be making another appearance for a while.
Unless I’ve just gone and set myself up as a free source of food, dooming me to an eternity of altruism.
Hold on. I’m supposed to be your friendly neighborhood convenience store cashier, but if I’m buying up all of our own stock and passing it off to a demon lord, does that make me his, like, minion?
“Mr. Demon Lord, we’ve arranged the goods you requested.” [Rubs greasy palms together.]
...You know what? I’m just not going to think too much about that. Or anything, really.
Oh, as of today, we’re running one of those spend-seven-hundred-yen-get-a-freebie campaigns. You know, the ones where you pick a raffle ticket and win whatever’s on the card. Usually some kind of snack.
I mean, did it have to start today? Why not yesterday? I’d have been able to pull so much extra food for those two if...
Whoa, nope. Enough of that. I’ve got to get my mind off of this.
“Yo, check it! Guys, I’m comin’ atcha live from a convenience store! Wild, huh?”
In swaggers this guy, staring straight at his phone, chatting away as he records...well, himself.
...Oh, no. He’s an influencer.
You can just tell.
The blond-haired blue-eyed customer flicks his flowing blue cape behind him, exposing a silver sword. He’s definitely one of those “look-at-me” types, who knows exactly how sexy he is.
“Okay, so, human convenience stores, yeah? They’re like, what the item shop in Hilga is to adventures like yours truly, but with way less stuff. Yo, a shout out to my item shop peeps — that’s where I got this sick sword.”
He draws the (super basic, more like) sword from the scabbard at his waist and starts to pose with it. Ugh, he’s easily the most annoying customer I’ve had to date. I’d rather not acknowledge this guy at all...but I’m on shift. I take a deep breath, then pipe up to address this loser.
“Um, excuse me, sir? You, uh, can’t record anything in here.”
“Whaaaat? Why not? I mean, it’s not like I’m getting all up in your business, yeah?”
“Well, no, but... Look, you just can’t.”
He’s even more of a jerk than the demon lord was.
Seriously — he actually makes that horned, hulking devil seem cute.
“C’mon, everyone loves my content! Whoa, hey! Even the cashier’s come over to check me out! Don’t forget to like and subscribe, man!”
May your channel rot in obscurity.
I feel a black rage welling up inside me, simmering just under the surface.
Yep. Such is the true nature of the service industry.
Still, he is a customer. I’ve got to tell him off with a smile.
“I mean, you’re bothering the other customers, for one.”
“Heh. I don’t see anyone else in here, d’you?”
“Either way, recording devices are prohibited here.”
“And where’s that written, huh?”
“...I’ll be back in just a moment.”
Giving him my best smile, I turn and head off to the break room.
I give up. I can’t handle this guy.
While banishing him to the slums of a completely different realm so that he can never show his face here again is the most appealing option...I don’t know how he even got here in the first place. So, what else is there to do but summon the convenience store’s final boss? (AKA, my manager.)
I carefully open the door, to see my manager still sound asleep on the couch, his hands demurely (?) arranged on his lap.
“Hey, um, Manager?”
That’s our manager for you. His voice a low rumble, he gets to the heart of the matter in as few words as possible.
“There’s a really obnoxious customer here. Could you please do something about him?”
My manager heaves himself up with some effort, pausing to roll some of the stiffness out of his neck and shoulders. The popping and cracking of his joints seems to echo throughout the small room.
With a huge sigh that sounds more like some kind of robot booting up, my manager narrows his eyes. It’s a stare that would bring a raging gorilla to a screeching halt in less than three seconds.
Honestly, he doesn’t look like he’s twenty-eight.
He’s got this battle-weary aura that makes him seem more like a hundred thousand years old. Give or take an extra four hundred years. This is a man who’s seen things.
He’s ripped, too. Like, the kind of ripped you get when you do nothing but fight for five hundred years straight. He’s also got this massive scar that runs from his forehead down to his left cheek, to round out his tough-guy image.
When I came in for my interview, I thought he was going to eat me alive.
I swear, I almost pissed my pants.
Wait, is that normal? Is this the sort of person who’d usually be working at a convenience store? ...Is he a person?
...Let’s just add that to the list of “things not to think about.”
His uniform is pulled taut by his bulging muscles that, I swear, are twitching in anticipation of the kill.
He stalks his way out of the break room and makes a beeline for the troublemaker.
“Man, with just one of these pens, I could totally slay like, a hundred goblins, easy. Pft, no pen? No problem! I’ve still got these jacked up legs! I can kill stuff six different ways without even busting out my sword! Yo, is there anything that needs slaying around here? ‘Cause my skills are slick. I can kick faster than the speed of light! Whoa, did I mention that my moves are so badass, I’ve got two nicknames? First one’s for those formal gigs, but for you guys, I’m ya boy ‘Windbreaker.’ I—"
My manager clasps the hero by the shoulder, addressing him just as firmly as his grip must be.
The wayward adventurer slowly turns around, and whatever he sees on my manager’s face stops him dead in his tracks.
After what seems like an eternity...
“...Please don’t kill me.”
...Is all the hero can mutter, in a weak voice.
Dude. Dude. After all that showboating, that’s the best you can do?
“Recording video is a nuisance to other customers. Please refrain from such behavior in the store.”
Red-faced and looking like he might burst into tears, the hero hastily stuffs his phone into his pocket. I’ve never felt more vindicated.
Yep. My manager’s no ordinary person.
I hadn’t called on him before because he’s...better in small doses.
And, to be honest, I kind of got the feeling that he was the kind of manager who’d resent being roused unless it was a real emergency, so I wasn’t too keen on pushing my luck.
I guess he really does take his job seriously.
Without a sound, my manager comes to stand in front of the register, resting his hand on my shoulder.
“You do good work here, Haru. If something else comes up, call me.”
His stern face relaxes into a warm smile, and he pats me twice on the shoulder in reply.
I feel so appreciated; I could cry.
I keep my head down low in a respectful bow until my manager disappears behind the break room door.
When I look up again, the so-called hero has vanished into the night.
I was so moved that I didn’t even hear the ding-a-ling-a-ling of the automatic doors.
Yeah, you’d better not darken our doors again, you dick.
But, man, the heroes around here have worse manners than the demon lords. I guess you can’t believe everything you see in anime and light novels.