Big Box Break-through

Friday mornings, I leave b'fast with "the girls" and head for the big box all-in-one that's on the way home. My goal is to get the basics bought and pick up the oft-used smaller items at the local market. The problem, however, with shopping at 7 am is that, although there is always a greeter guarding the doorway, the cashiers apparently don't arrive until 8 am. Thus, I am forced to use the self-service scanner system, aptly named because each time I approach the monster, I hiss -- SSSS!

Usually items with a barcode scan -- eventually. When I get a price result on the first try, I scream as if I've won the daily lottery!! Other days, I get the "Step away from the scanner" reaction, with flashing lights and tones to alert the person manning the supervisory station at the head of the scanners that someone is not respecting the equipment. A yell in my direction, "Stop! I'll be there in a minue," alerts me to the fact that I may have to begin anew not through any fault of mine, but because the machine knows that I have no clue what I'm doing and likes to screw with me.

As elitist as this sounds, had I wanted to be a super-store cashier, I would have majored in scanning. Put me in front of a classroom filled with terrifying teens and I'm in my element; make me use the self-service scanner system and I drop to my knees, defeated.

This morning, it was the produce that threw me for a loop. I begged the service rep at the supervision booth for directions, which she kindly provided: "Just key in the code." Yes, that was ... helpful ... if I knew which code (not one piece of my produce had a code) and, of course, how to "key" it in. I tried the zen philosophy of check-out, stilling myself into my calm place and waiting for the code and the key process to present itself, but, alas, that system doesn't work at the SSSS.

With a line building up behind me, I again asked for assistance, this time adding that there were no codes for me to key in. "Sure, there are," came the confident reply. "They are on each piece of produce." I assured her that MY produce had no such codes, and after forcefully locking her work station, she sauntered in my direction, sharing that look of "oh, for crying out loud" with the patrons lined up behind me. I felt vindicated when she discovered there were no codes (and almost wanted to use the "na na na na na" happy dance), but she recovered quickly. "Just look them up!"

That works if one, I know the look-up process and two, I know what's in the bag. Ever notice how peaches and nectarines look alike? Or cucumbers and zucchini? Or several different kinds of potatoes, the specific names of which I don't know because "white" or "red" have always been enough information. I honestly don't know where the potatoes are grown, but some of them have regional names! I got the bananas on the first try, but no points for that small success.

Thankfully, she finally understood that the machine was winning this war and it wasn't pretty. She "helped" me to look up the codes, input the codes, wait for the machine to accept them, then handed me the product to put into the bag. When I asked her to wait a sec because the bags were full and I didn't know if I was allowed to remove them from the pressure sensor without setting off yet another alarm, she explained that "IF I had placed the items on the conveyor, we wouldn't have to ask that question." Grudingly, she allowed me to put the filled bags into the cart, but when "we" tried to input another item, the register locked up, a common occurrence in my experience -- but I hadn't caused it this time. Hurrah!

My credit card went through lightning fast, the only part of the experience that was positive. Now that I've been personally trained in how to use the SSSS, perhaps I can get a job at the Big Box store, standing at the supervisor's booth and showing off my scanning superiorty to other technologically challenged senior shoppers.