Wondering how many of you other ladies do the weekly grocery shopping. I’m not a scared to admit that I put on my apron each week and push my little cart down every aisle at the local supermarket.

Lots of times I’m given a list. I treat it like orders from a commander, sent on a secret mission, and as the irresponsible soldier I am, I often lose the list in the heat of battle. Many minutes can pass with me paralyzed in the Superglue aisle trying to remember if I was supposed to get C batteries or vitamin C.

Doesn’t it seem that all of the store employees used to work at the front of the store? Can you recall when every checkout stand had a checker and a bagger? Now every single store employee is standing lost in a pyramid of boxes filling shelves and, in fact, there is nothing to even identify these people as employees. Some days I start stocking the cheese case and see how long it takes for someone to stop me.

Of course, this dynamic led us to the concept of self-checkout – a communist plot designed to replace the planet’s humans with automatons and transformers.

I’m sharp enough to check out all by myself. The problem is that after just a few scans I lose concentration and that means I almost always leave the store without items I paid for.

I argue with the lady that’s inside the grocery scanner thingy – the self-checkout version of Alexa. From the very first scan she starts nagging. She says, “If you have a club card, scan it now.” I say “No! You’re not the boss of me … I’ll scan it when I’m damn good and ready!”

“Put the scanned item in the bag.”
“I did.”
“Put the scanned item in the bag.”
“I did.”
“All scanned items must be placed in the bagging area.”
“I know! I fuckin’ know … they are in the bagging area, I’m lookin’ right at ’em!”
“If you’re done scanning, select checkout.”
“I’m not done! Is there a big fuckin’ hurry here?”
“Replace the item removed from the bagging area.”
“Shut up!”
“Help is on the way.”
No! I don’t need any fuckin’ help! Just stop talking to me.”
“Select the number of grocery bags you’d like to purchase.”
“Fuck that! I’m doing all the work here and there isn’t even a discount for self-checkout, now you want money for bags!”
“Help is on the way.”
“I hope the help brings a fuckin’ tire iron!”
“Thank you for shopping with us.”
“See ya next week bitch!”

Photo credit: Photographing Travis on VisualHunt.com / CC BY