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.
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.
posted by Brooke at 8:00 AM
3 Comments:
Soup huh? You expect me to believe that?
OH YES. I heart the self-check. So does Anna, but that's because she thinks it's cool to scan.
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.
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