America, meet Darwin. Darwin, America.

Okay, so the real point of this post/blog/vent isn't necessarily one of life or death, but it should be. That's right, we're going to discuss self-checkout kiosks at the grocery store, or more appropriately, those who use them.

This entry was sparked by a comment made to me by the nice little woman who works at my local grocery store. "You are so proficient at these," she said "I'll make sure to let you go to the head of the line in the future." How kind. My sheer ability to be adequate has landed me a position ahead of what I can only guess is a steaming pile of mediocracy! Sweet! Why would she tell me this, you ask? Well, you probably didn't ask, but I'm going to tell you anyway. That's the point of a blog.

The use of these machines is fairly simple in theory ("In theory. Everything works in theory. Communism works in theory").

Step 1: Walk up to the little stand with your basket. If you need a cart to haul around your crap, you have too much and should just go stand in line with all the other consumer whores.

Step 2: Scan your shit, put it in the bag. Make sure you put it in the bag, as the machine needs to register that you did, in fact, place it in the bagging area.

a) If it something like a case of coke, just press "Skip bagging" and place it back in your cart.
b) For unmarked produce, place it on the scanner, choose the name of the product, press enter, and place it in your bag.

Step 3: Pay.

Step 4: Leave.

Somehow, we have ended up with additional steps. I don't know how this happened, but it did. The following is based EXACTLY on what I experienced last night. Again for your convenience, I have outlined the new steps below:

Step 1: Bring your cart up the stand. Yeah, you have a cart-load, but you're super-smart and are fully capable of doing this yourself! I mean, if a low-level minimum-wage-earning tard can scan and bag, so can you!

Step 2: Stare at the screen. This could be more complicated than you thought. Do you want English or Spanish? Hmm.

Step 3: Ponder Step 2, choose option.

Step 4: Find a way to start over. You chose Spanish.

Step 5: Scan your bananas. Oh wait, no little barcode on them? Hm.

Step 6: Vacant expression with a hint of exasperation. Stupid technology.

Step 7: Press the "No barcode" button.

Step 8: Contemplate the meaning of the term PLU, ignoring that the screen tells you what it is. Search your bananas for this "PLU" thing. Don't find it.

Step 9: See Step 6.

Step 10: Choose "No PLU". You're so clever.

Step 11: Try to remember the alphabet song to figure out where on the list your "bananas" are. Feel stupid when you realize it's the second letter.

Step 12: Choose "plantanes", because the little picture looks like a banana.

Step 13: Wait. Why didn't it register anything? I have the bananas- they're right here in my hand! Why doesn't it know how much they weigh??

Step 14: Slam bananas down in exasperation. Notice it weighs them. Feel stupid, move on.

Step 15: Hear the voice from the computer say, "Please place your item in a bag". Put bananas back in your cart, triggering "Please put item in bag" dialogue again.

Step 16: See Step 6.

Step 17: On a lark, put bananas in bag. It worked! Okay, this will be easy.

Step 18: Scan items and place them in the bagging area, but not in bags. You're too busy for that, and your time is much too valuable. You'll do it at the end.

Step 19: Drag case of bottled water over scanner.

Step 20: Try to find a way to place the case in the bagging area.

Step 21: Succeed, but you're going to need new bananas.

Step 22: Notice "Skip bagging" option that pops up and lets you put the case in your cart. Sweet!

Step 23: Finish scanning items, begin to bag them.

Step 24: When you lift items to put them in a bag, that nagging "Unexpected Item Removed from Bagging Area" dialogue pops up.

Step 25: Press "Item removed", thereby letting the computer know you don't intend to put it in a bag.

Step 26: Place it in a bag.

Step 27: "Unexpected item in bagging area"

Step 28: See Step 6.

Step 29: Call over attendant.

Step 30: Look behind you, giving the "Gosh, computers are so stupid" expression to everyone behind you.

Step 31: Notice me glaring at you.

Step 32: Get the attendant to scan all of your things, pressing appropriate buttons when required, like a normal intelligent human being.

Step 33: "Aw crap, I forgot my credit card"

Step 34: See Step 6

Step 35: Walk away, leaving your crap.

So what we've essentially done is not remove the middle-man cashier, but we've added a step to the entire 'checking out' process. That step is called "retardation".

I politely informed the attendant last night that they should keep a lane open for those who are capable and show some sort of licensure to use the machines. She agreed, but giggled it off. Stupid bint. If I had my way, you'd get one minute to complete your transaction. If you exceed your time limit, you go back to the end of the line. You're welcome to try as many times as you'd like, but I'm fairly certain that most people will either give up or become marvelously fast after the one-minute time frame is established.

Also, those who exceed twenty seconds for more than one item will be rounded up and shot en masse. If you can't do this, I'd hate to see how you plan on functioning in the real world. This task is so simple and elegant. It was designed to save people time and reward them for being forward-thinking and competent. Instead, it's punishing those of us who "get it". Screw you, hippies, they don't sell Tofurkey Jerky here.

Yours truly,
The Grocery Store Nazi