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Monday, December 1, 2008

I never learn!

No this is not me, but a pic of the dratted devil machine.
Two days before Thanksgiving and I had to go get rolls for the big dinner at my mother-in-law’s house. Since we were in the store, I decided to get the necessities for the next couple of days. The kids were going to be off, so I needed bread, pork roll, milk, dog food, and some veggies and salad. We did not fill our cart; my son and I just got what we needed. The store was so crowded, that we decided to self-checkout. What a mess! Every time I have ever attempted this feat, I wind up frustrated, but they had two attendants standing by so I figured I would go for it. The lady in front of me seemed to be having some trouble; that should have been my first clue. Then she started trying to feed it coupons that it didn’t like. The line behind me was getting longer and it was too late to move to another checkout station, they were all jammed. Then the woman fed it like 50 singles. I could not believe her, first of all it doesn’t like every one of them, so it keeps spitting them out. I was so frustrated and I didn’t even use the devil machine yet. I said hi to another teacher an isle over and rolled my eyes. “They” say Karma is a boomerang, and I guess it is, because when I got to bat, it would not scan my items. I could not believe how many times I had to rescan them. The lady before me was not finished bagging, so my stuff was clogging the belt too. The machine started dinging and asking me to clear my belt. The worst times came when my son, eager to help out, starts moving stuff along the belt, he kept picking things up and putting them back down in another place. I tried to explain, while I was getting the hairy eyeball from all the shoppers in back of me, that every time he moved something, he was pissing off the scanner. The other teacher was laughing at me and I really felt like just walking away from my groceries. Since I could not face my mother-in-law with no rolls, I stayed and wished bad thoughts at the machine. The operator let me go after only putting in his password like three times. I am sure that everything did not get scanned and the police will show up at my door someday. I could not tell what slipped thorough the cracks, but I probably overpaid as well since I had to scan some items so many times. Who knows?
I will never use that stupid self-scanner again. I swear “they” are filming us somewhere and laughing their butts off.

“They,” you know what this means, doncha? The ever-present “They.”

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