Monday, February 19, 2007

16 leeks, or why I prefer the self-checkout line

When you cruise through a manned checkout line with 16 leeks, you're going to get some questions. And you can either buy in and be a good little Social Contract Girl, or you can scowl and mutter None-a your goddamn business, not endearing yourself to the checkout person, who's really just making conversation and trying to make a long dull day go by faster.

Do you see why it's hard to be me?

So when the QFC in my neighborhood installed the self-checkout line, where you are checker, checkee, and bagboy all at once, I practically sang hosannas right there in Frozen Foods. I don't really like talking to people about my produce, particularly when I'm only buying 16 leeks and some toilet paper. It raises uncomfortable questions.

The answer, of course, is "potato-leek soup and backup TP," but no one ever believes that.

Also: If you haven't yet read Bob Harris's Prisoner of Trebekistan, do it. Do it now. Great book.


Anonymous Eileen said...

Soup huh? You expect me to believe that?

4:11 PM  
Blogger Heidi said...

OH YES. I heart the self-check. So does Anna, but that's because she thinks it's cool to scan.

7:14 PM  
Blogger Chandra said...

Self-checkout RULES. Except in the UK. Where the machines talk in a supercilious British accent and consistently think unscanned items have been placed UNAUTHORIZED in the bagging area. Um, no, sorry, that would be the GINORMOUS stack of plastic bags some clueless/lazy clerk put into the area that keeps toppling into my items. And then the light flashes and the clueless/lazy clerk has to amble over and reset the machine so you can continue scanning. Wash, lather and repeat - all with an exponentially growing lin-I mean, queue, growing behind you.

Fun times, my friend. Fun times.

3:07 AM  

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