Bar codes and Baggers

An Open Letter to

Supermarket Employees

Everywhere:

Dear checkout clerks and grocery baggers,

Today I used the self-checkout at the store and realized that the automated checkout computer is the devil incarnate, and you are all mere pawns in its plot. The ill-fated encounter went like this:

Me: La, la, la...toodling through the store...some apples...a few boxes of cereal...discretely slip some lady-time supplies into the deepest, hiddenest, bottom-most recesses of the cart...gallon of milk.

Checkout dude: BWAAAHAAHAAAA! I can't wait until she comes through my line so I can make those lady-time supplies obvious to all bystanders. Oooh, yes, I'll call a price check. It will be my finest hour.

Me: Foiled again, checkout dude! I'll pay for them in the privacy of self-checkout!

Self-checkout computer: Exxxxx-cellent. Even better.

Me: La, la, la...this is going well. Cereal box -- scan, beep, bag. Another cereal box -- scan, beep, bag. Okay, here's the big test. Lady box -- scan...no beep...scan again...no beep... Scan, scan, scan; beep, beep, beep; error, error, error. Panic sets in.

Self-checkout computer: Exxxxx-cellent. Now cue the creepy dude at checkout to come "help."

Me: Frick. The creepy dude from checkout is coming to help.

Checkout dude: Having trouble *smirk* with your *snark* purchase? We'll just have to go scan this at customer service. (Lifting the box high above his head like a torch to lead the way.) Follow me.

Me: Defeat.

As I followed helplessly, watching my ladybox parade approximately a half mile through several lines of curiously attentive shoppers, I could have sworn I heard the demonic sound of computerized laughter from the vicinity of self-checkout.

In conclusion, my dear checkout clerks and grocery baggers, beware the automated self-checkout. Today, it takes over my dignity. Tomorrow, it takes over the world.

Sincerely,

sarah