After yesterday’s unusual work session in an actual office, I came home pretty beat. Not from the work, exactly, but from the traffic. I don’t know how people do that commute every day.
But on my way home, I stopped at the Super Fresh grocery store to pick up a couple of items. Being out of soda at home is not a state that I like to have persist.
Armed with a case of diet soda and a box of Nutty Bars, I headed for the checkout. I wasn’t really in the mood to interact with people - the traffic had put me in a bitter mood - so instead of choosing one of the two open lanes, I elected for the self-checkout.
“Welcome to Super*Fresh!” the machine screamed as I pushed the start button. The two free cashiers, who I had avoided using a circuitous route, looked over in my direction.
“Please scan your first item, then place it in the bag!” I concentrated on my task. Scan two items, and escape the store without interacting with anyone. Though, the machine was nearly qualifying as another annoying cashier in its own right. I wonder if the other cashiers secretly enable all of the ridiculous prompts in an attempt to scare people away from the self-checkouts. Hmm.
I swiped my debit card through the card reader at this point, since I hate hearing the prompts, as you might have guessed. If you run your card through first, then the only prompt you hear is to verify the total at the end, instead of the whole ordeal about choosing an option and swiping your card and following the stupid prompts on the other system. (Why can’t they integrate these?)
I scanned the Nutty Bars and put them on the scale. I never put my items “in the bag” because I’m usually only checking out with a few things, and don’t want the plastic bag.
I scanned the soda, and put it on the scale. Then the machine complained that I had put an extra item in the bag. I had not. I took the soda off the scale, and although the total cost on the screen included the soda, it wasn’t registering as having any weight for the purposes of filling my cart.
Yes, I’ve spent too much time figuring out how these things work.
So, I looked at the machine perplexed for a moment, then continued by putting the soda on the floor. I figure that as long as I am paying for everything, who cares whether it’s in the bag. At this point, I’m totally ignoring any voices that might be speaking near me saying such things as, “You’re ok.” Why would someone be saying that to me? Anyway, I continued.
“Do you have any coupons?!” screamed the machine. I quickly punch through all of the options I can.
“Do you have a SuperCard?!” I push “No”. I do not have a SuperCard. I do not have an intention of getting one, and I just want to leave. I want to pay an extra $.30 so that I can not suffer any more humiliation at the hands of this machine. Yes, the cashiers are all standing there, watching, with their arms folded.
A voice behind me. “You don’t have a Super*card?” he asks. He’s maybe 14. Why is he talking to me? I just want to leave with my Coke.
“No,” I say content to pay my extra $.30 so that I can avoid having more junk mail sent to my house from the executives at Super*Fresh who pay people to sort their junk mail.
I finally get to the last button on the page. “Pay.” I try to push it, and the system doesn’t respond. The whole thing freaks out. What the…?
“You’re ok,” says the voice behind me. Suddenly my screen registers a discount and a Super*Card number.
I have to re-swipe my card, because the machine now wants to ask me about my payment method again. No, I don’t have coupons. Yes, I agree to push the button on the other box that is asking me “Is $4.25 ok?” Again.
It turns out that kid was playing with my order the whole time. This is why my soda didn’t weigh properly. He explains all of this to me as I wait for the machine to process his extra instructions with my purchase. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were extra charges on my card that were funding his college at this point. Would it have killed this kid to just leave me alone? That’s why I didn’t get in the regular lines in the first place. Yes, $.30 is worth my time.
“Don’t forget your receipt!” screams the machine on my way out.
