I’m all for self-checkouts. Any technology that makes human interaction obsolete can only be a good thing (see: internet shopping & drinking alone). But my social ineptitude is only bested by my ability to continually forget that computers hate me. It’s this sort of cognitive dissonance that is to blame for my poor life aspirations.
Enter the realm of self-checkouts. Basket is brimmed & the handle is bowing, so much so that I’m left to carry organic quinoa under arm. I need to get out of the supermarket as quickly as possible, so naturally, I’m gonna hit the self-scan (so fast it’ll sound like a bloody Flume track).
‘Please wait while we verify your bags.’ There’s no trust in the world anymore. Checkout assistant enters the magic passcode, confirms I am using bags. And we’re away.
‘Unexpected item in the bagging area’. It’s a bloody newspaper, what were you possibly expecting it to weigh? Full 360 for the checkout dude and the magic passcode is entered again.
Should’ve pre-planned how I was going to pack this bag – absolute shambles. I can see why they don’t bother with it at ALDI. Shit. Have to cram the milk in before the machine suspects foul-play and beckons for its master again.
Alright apples – weight item – fruit. Right, where the hell are apples? Apples are a fruit right? They didn’t lose fruit status did they? “Na mate you’ve gotta scan the sticker on the apple.” WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN AND WHY ARE WE CHANGING THE RULES?
All the other self-checkouts start flashing for assistance and create a landing strip for the check-out attendant to touch down and deal with us morons.
Nonchalantly scan KY Jelly and bury it at the bottom of the bag. My sexual repression is very much in play. Machine senses this and beckons the checkout guy. I slowly dig out the lube from the bottom of the bag for inspection. Starting to sense a real bond forming.
One moment later: ‘Have you removed the bag from the bagging area?’ Either that or someone turned off the gravity in here. I wish I could get to know the lady who does the voice for these and ask her why she hates me.
Home stretch! Click finish & pay. *Age verification required* (I live in the UK). Surely a demeanor crushed by student debt will cut it? Attendant bounds back right as I remember I didn’t even buy any booze. “Uh.. I’ve got a potato peeler in here?” Magic code entered again. Should try and memorise that. May have to add a gratuity to the bill for the constant wait service.
*Signature required* Ugh, forgot my bank is located in the dark ages for tax purposes.
Written by Christian Eva. Photo via SMH.