Oct 5, 2015 3 min read

I often have to stop at a grocery store after work, as many of us do. And despite having 247 checkout lanes, usually only four are open.

Therefore, it is your option to stand in line for hours waiting your turn as patiently as possible (after all, it isn’t the cashier’s fault her line stretches past the frozen food aisle) or to scan and bag your own groceries.

I waver as to which I prefer to do.

On one hand, standing in line to wait to interact with a real person allows me the time to check, double check and whatever word means for-the-hundredth-time check my list to make sure I haven’t forgotten any items of importance (I probably still did).

It also means another human being gets to know how much money I have saved by pairing weekly specials with the stack of coupons in my hand (He probably doesn’t care).

On the other hand, the longer I stand there, the more potential there is for an overtired or unkind person to be rude, and sometimes I just want to get home and put on my pajamas without getting emotional carnage all over my apples and shampoo.

Saturday, I decided to scan for myself. The cashier who oversees the self-checkout area told me an open lane next to me, despite being marked “express,” was eligible for my 50 or so items. Apparently, express no longer means “10 Items or Less”; it simply means the store acknowledges self-checkout is typically faster than the other type.

I placed my first item onto the belt and began. Four items later, a light began flashing for my supposed need for assistance because the belt was too full. I paused to bag my one sack of groceries, and while at that end, the machine at the beginning began demanding to know if I was going to scan any other items or if I was ready to pay. Sheesh.

I quickly returned to scan another item, which I apparently didn’t place on the belt in the correct manner, because the light lit again and the machine began screeching that the dimensions of the package I placed on the belt didn’t match the item I scanned.

This, requiring actual assistance to reset the machine, brought a cashier to my station. She told me it happens sometimes when the boxes are dented. Oh, no, I thought. I piled so much stuff in this cart that half of it is probably dented!

While this exchange took place, another four items become clogged at the end of the belt, so I had to pause again to bag my items, while again being chastised by the machine for not completing the transaction.

It also didn’t like my fruit choices, my case of water or my coupons.

But, finally, I was finished and had paid. I was free to go. I was instructed to have a nice day.

I also was exhausted and again convinced of the superiority of waiting in the line for a person next time.

Contact Laura Zoeller at zoeller5@verizon.net.