Achievement Unlocked: Getting Fired from Lidl in Under a Month

New achievement unlocked!

“Got fired from Lidl.”

Completion time: < 30 days.

XP gained: debatable, but definitely not negligible.

Let’s rewind a bit.

End of One Quest, Start of Survival Mode

When I was let go from my previous job — the one I truly thought had merged my childhood passion with something that could actually pay bills — I felt like I’d finished a long campaign only to be greeted by a blue screen of death instead of end credits. After about four months there, I hit the burnout wall.

By the way, I strongly suspect that company itself is slowly turning into a zombie — judging by the state of its e-shop and social media, which haven’t been updated in months.

Up until then, my unemployment phases had been short side quests, never lasting more than four months. This time, though, it stretched out. Before I knew it, six months had passed filled with recruiters chanting the same mantra:

“We’ve decided to move forward with other candidates who better match our requirements.”

My confidence nose-dived like a kamikaze pilot. I shifted from “looking for a job I’d enjoy” to “looking for any job that pays decently.”

Self-esteem got thrown into the inventory — right next to “time for self-care” and “personal growth.”

This was pure survival mode. You’ve got to eat, and bills won’t pay themselves no matter how nicely you smile at them.

Lidl: The Quest That Started Innocently Enough

I knew Lidl as a customer — it’s my closest supermarket, the place where I did my regular weekly side quests. I’d been warned by multiple employees that the job was tough, but I wasn’t afraid of physical work.

After months of sitting at home and working behind a screen, a bit of physical grind actually sounded refreshing. Even the early morning shift — being in the store before 5 a.m. — didn’t scare me.

I thought: Challenge accepted.

Still, something in my gut told me this wasn’t going to be the right quest. I’ll skip the less exciting mechanics and focus on the ones that would make any neurospicy player sweat.

The Headset: Blessing and Curse

If you’ve ever shopped at Lidl, you’ve probably noticed employees wearing earpieces.

In theory, it’s a great tool — instant communication across the store, quick help when a barcode is missing or someone can’t find a product.

In practice? It’s like a Discord voice chat with no mute button and no mod.

Veteran employees — who’ve basically fused with their earpieces — don’t just share work info. They also exchange life updates: weekend plans, what their kids did, what they cooked last night.

For them, it’s perfectly natural. For customers, it often looks like the cashier is talking to themselves. And for me — an ADHD brain already running at 120% multitasking load — it was pure white noise from hell.

When I actually needed to ask something work-related, I had to jump into the chatter, interrupt random conversations, and pray I wasn’t cutting into someone’s story about their kid’s soccer game.

Newbie + anxiety + open voice channel chaos = instant overload.

The Checkout: My Safe Spot

I’ve always been customer-oriented. Years of working in service — from a library to retail to a hotel front desk — trained my instincts for handling chaos gracefully.

Once, I even got a 100% rating from a mystery shopper. So naturally, I assumed the checkout would be my stronghold. Sure, there are dozens of numeric codes for fruits, veggies, and bakery goods, but they can be learned — if you’re given time.

But being a main cashier comes with extra side missions: You have to monitor how many customers are in line (and call backup when needed) and keep an eye on the self-checkout stations behind you.

Sounds simple enough — until you’re verifying a customer’s age because they’re buying toilet cleaner (yes, you technically can’t buy that under 18 in the Czech Republic — it’s classified as a chemical product that could be misused, so it’s age-restricted by law), while another person in line sighs dramatically.

Meanwhile, the self-checkout scale insists that “this item doesn’t match the one scanned,” and the tall promotional stand in front of your register blocks your view of the growing queue.

That’s not multitasking anymore — that’s a real-time boss fight.

Short bursts of stress aren’t what bother people with the ADHD perk. We often thrive under mild pressure. The real issue is hyperfocusing — and my focus was always on the customer right in front of me.

If I’m helping someone, I know others are waiting, but breaking that focus feels like interrupting a combo mid-attack. Add in constant chatter from the headset and a restless line of people, and you’ve got a recipe for collective frustration.

One such moment happened just before my exit.

I was helping customers at a stubborn self-checkout when a woman from the main line asked if someone could “please come and start scanning.”

What can you do? Smile and wave — like the penguins from Madagascar.

Another customer told me she admired how I stayed positive. I smiled back. That, at least, I do know how to handle.

And yet… it still wasn’t enough.

Smile and wave 😁

When Your Strengths Don’t Fit the System

Looking back, neither side was truly happy. I was anxious, constantly afraid of what I’d mess up next. Management was dissatisfied with my speed.

Lidl runs on norms and numbers, not on individual customer satisfaction. And I’m someone who would rather make sure the customer leaves smiling than hit a performance quota.

In my previous jobs, independence and improvisation were assets. Here, they were liabilities. I was supposed to ask for help. I was supposed to use that cursed headset.

To their credit, my “exit interview” was honest and respectful. Both store and area managers gave me clear, constructive feedback — and they were right: The cashier position at Lidl isn’t for me. And Lidl isn’t a company that could make good use of my strengths.

When One Sentence Feels Like a System Restart

My confidence took another dive into Vault 11 that day (yes, that one). But a month later, I can write about it calmly.

A big part of that came from a conversation with Klára Smolíková, a Czech author of children’s books and comics — and one of my longtime supporters from my library work days.

We met at Kniha Brno, a Czech literary festival, last Friday.

After I told her the story, she paused and said:

“Your strength is what Lidl sees as a weakness.”

She’s right.

And that sentence might just be the patch note I needed. It gave me a way to reframe my experience — and maybe even rewrite my LinkedIn bio.

From now on, I’m adding a section for my most unusual achievements.“ Got fired from Lidl in under a month” will look fantastic next to “Saved author František Kotleta’s ass after I noticed his audiobook had chapters in the wrong order.” (true story, 2019).

It may not belong to the Glory part of my story, but it’s definitely a Glitch.

Because sometimes, you don’t earn XP for winning —you earn it simply for staying in the game.