Wednesday, November 17, 2004
Computers With Attitude
Once again I ventured into the world of do it yourself check out at the grocery store and once again I was berated by an inanimate object for being a moron. I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself. I am perfectly happy with waiting in line to have a human being scan my stuff and bag it for me, kindly ask me if I would like any help out with that, but no. No. Every once in awhile I apparently start to feel too good about myself, get all cocky and think that this time I will master the self serve scanner.
Maybe I am a moron.
Before I begin I would like to ask, why is it that whenever you go to the store clad in a pair of sweats and pajama top thinking you’re just going to run in, get the milk and run out real quick, besides, it’s middle of the day, only old people and moms are shopping at this hour and you barely ran a brush through your hair, your face is going natural, but it doesn’t matter because really, hardly anyone is going to see you right.....that it is at that precise moment in time that a delicious looking guy passes you in the aisle looking fabulous. He makes eye contact, gives you a smile and you are mortified because you, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself that it was a congenial smile, know he’s taking mental notes of your current appearance and having himself a good inner laugh? Does this only happen to me? At least I had enough foresight to tie my shoes after getting out of the car because, you know, I didn’t want to look slovenly.
So, there I am, at the Machine of Doomâ„¢, already embarrassed from my earlier encounter with the Adonis, wondering what the hell I’m doing there when there are perfectly good checkers two aisles down who get paid to do this. I stress when I do self scan because the machine always yells at me. I never stress with a live checker.
Too late to turn back now, there is a line forming. Great, an audience. Just what I need. I begin.
This will be my third or fourth time ever using one of these things and as I stated, I’ve been scolded by these machines, very loudly I might add, so I am extremely courteous and do not move unless instructed. I place my items to the right of the scanner and follow the prompts on the touch screen, each time folding my hands in front of me, waiting patiently until the machine tells me to touch the screen again.
Finally we begin the scanning process. Ok, now, from experience I have learned, as well as any shopper within a 5 mile radius, that once you scan, you put that item IN THE BAG lady, I don’t care if you don’t want a bag you do as I tell you or I will pierce the air with an ear shattering siren. Got that? Use the fricken bag!
The second time I used one of these things I had been so traumatized by my first experience that I decided to get the bag ready so that I could fling the items in it before the machine started raising its voice to me again.
Bit of advice: Don’t do that.
“I felt the bag move! Did you put something in the bag before I told you to? You didn’t scan anything but I specifically felt the bag move! Oh, I see, you’re a THIEF! HEY! Someone get over here and check this thief’s bag!”
Got it? Don’t touch the bag, adjust the bag, look at the bag, breathe in the bag’s general direction...just stand there, with your hands folded neatly in front of you and stare at the screen while waiting for your next command. “Yes master computer.”
But see this time, I was ready. I would not touch that bag until I scanned the item and when it came time to place the item in the bag, I would do so quickly lest the machine think I was trying to put two items in the bag because I had the audacity to take so long.
Speaking of which, what I really don’t need at this exact moment is someone getting all impatient behind me and tapping their foot, boring holes into my back. I know you are waiting but your wrath is nothing compared to the Machine of Doomâ„¢ so I suggest you mellow the hell out. I do not care if you are a pro at this and won the Gold Medal for self serve scanning at the Grocery Store Olympics...you just chill out. I bet I can name 10 things I’m better at than you so get over yourself.
Anyway, so I was so worried about the whole bag fiasco that I failed to pay attention to the *^&%$#@! yellow stripe. Bloody hell. I scan the milk and practically throw it into the bag when the machine starts spitting and cursing at me.
“Hey! Idiot! What did I just tell you? I said to touch the item on the yellow line after scanning and before putting said item into the bag! What is your problem? Are you deaf or just totally stupid? Now touch the damn item on the yellow stripe before I vaporize you!”
Yes master computer.
Thankfully I only had three items and the Machine of Doomâ„¢ and I got along fairly well during the rest of the transaction although I distinctly felt it glaring at me when I swiped my credit card. I’m positive it had no faith in me that I would accomplish that task without a hitch.
The Machine of Doomâ„¢ then ordered me to take my shit and get out of its face and go meet the employee at the end of the row. Ah...home free. I walked over to the lady, victorious grin on my face, held up my bags, displayed my receipt and began to step away towards the door and eternal happiness.
“Wait!”, she said. Oh man. No. I swear I did everything right....the Machine of Doomâ„¢ let me go, surely I must be cleared to leave. Oh, I get it, the machine sent a secret coded message to the employee while I was gathering my bags...that’s it isn’t it?
:::Employee-this human is too stupid. She’s holding up the self serve line. Eliminate her immediately.:::
“You need to sign this.” Whew. Ok, just need to sign the credit card receipt....or was it really a receipt and not an agreement that if I should ever attempt to use the self serve machines again, they have the right to come in the middle of the night, throw me into a bag and toss me off the end of a pier? I scrutinized the piece of paper the employee had handed to me.
Nope, it really was just the credit card receipt. I signed it and left. I have survived another episode with the Machine of Doomâ„¢ and I feel fine.
