You see, I thought it couldn’t get any worse than standing in the check out line at Wal-Mart along with 10 other shoppers, one of whom has a screaming child and another who has a wild child tearing up the candy and gum display. On Christmas Eve. With snow in the forecast and not a loaf of bread or even a pint of milk to be found.I was wrong. Dreadfully, horribly wrong.
My husband is drawn to the self check outs like a bug to a porch light. Maybe it’s a male thing. Being in full charge of dragging those bar codes across the pretty red light just right so the female voice (aha! that might be it right there!) says, in a very loud tone, to please bag your item.But it never fails that at least one item doesn’t ring up right or maybe not at all, so we end up standing around looking pitiful, hoping the one clerk in the area will help us out first instead of the other 4 self check out lines that are stuck because of a similar problem.
And don’t try to check out jewelry by yourself. And I don’t mean expensive jewelry, either. One night we waited at least 10 minutes for a supervisor who, the machine said, had to “approve” our purchase. So when she finally got there, I put the earrings on and said, “So, do you approve of these or not? Are they really my color?”You’ll never convince me that my David is not an optimist. After he automatically gravitates to the self check outs, he always pulls those items across the glass with a flourish, thinking that nothing can stop him.
Until the nice female voice starts demanding, loudly, that he bag his last item. Except that he has already bagged his last item. So he unbags his last item, at which time the voice tells him to rescan his last item.And I don’t even want to think about putting a 14-pound box of kitty litter in the bagging area. Sometimes it wants to know about that and sometimes it doesn’t. Either way, I feel like a cat-litter thief, like I’m too dumb to try to shoplift something a little lighter and a whole lot smaller.
Some of these self-checkers are so small, I had more counter space in our 24-ft camper! And if you don’t keep moving things along, the voice will repeatedly tell you to bag or scan or whatever it thinks you need the most.I usually just stand back and let David mess with it since he’s the one who is insisting to use it. I admire his optimism or maybe it’s just a poor memory that keeps him coming back.
I can usually stand there with my poker face on no matter what happens. Except when he’s trying to bag something too light to register and he starts this sort of crazy ballet of putting things on the bagger in different combinations, hoping to hit just the right grouping to get the stupid thing to finally ring it up.Apparently, a laughing wife has no place in this scenario. Which makes me want to be there all the more…