buttons, nozzles and slots, oh my!

An oldie but goodie: somewhat revamped for relevancy…Circa October 2007… YES. I AM unabashedly recycling today, because chances are, none of you read my blog when I wrote this one. And if you did…MEH. Let’s relive the good times, mmmkay? Hope you all have a fabulous kind of weekend!

Can someone please tell me what genius came up with the conspiracy enshrouding every single checkout system (which was supposedly convenient) being completely different, everywhere you go in this great country we call America?

Can we not have some ridiculous monopoly by a uniform company who keeps the purchasing of all products to a simple and non-confusing system??? Like I push a button and you send me a bill. Dave Ramsey would not approve, but it’s totally called swipe and done. Kind of like using the potty. It should be that easy, thankyouvermuch.

I arrive at the checkout counter with children in tow screaming like banshees in the middle of africa. (do banshees live in africa? probably not?)  Their grocery cart love affair has obviously come to an abrupt end as they no longer wish to be contained in said vehicle, and are now flailing various body parts over the edge in desperate attempt at an escape. And I get to decipher Greek on a jibberish-esque screen system whilst attempting to purchase my cart full of items. All the while, my ice cream is melting, valuable time is being wasted, and a smirking cashier watches behind gothika-inspired fingernails, clearly amused.


Scan the card vertically.

Enter your pin.

Don’t enter your pin.

Would you like cash?

No cash?

Are you sure?

Scan card the other way

No, the other way

Scan the card Horizontally and turn three times whilst placing the card over your forehead and reciting what you have purchased, in the order they were scanned…

Sit down and let me scan your goodies like a copying machine

drop it like it’s hawt

drop it like it’s hawt

I won’t even thoroughly cover the self checkout systems I avoid like the plague at all area Walmarts and Publix alike. Those stupid things were made for aloof college girls in their skinny jeans with nothing but a wallet hanging on their key chain while they purchase their latest take on tampons. Do you see any children screaming at their feet? Oh to go back to the wallet-on-a-keychain days, while I hop into my Montero and drive for the sunset with nothing else on my mind other than my latest conundrum of changing my toenails from pink to orange after my trip to the tanning bed…I was kindofabigdeal.

Cut to me. In the mini. Three kids in tow. Still reaching for that unattainable awesomeness factor. This is me trying…and ever so ungracefully falling flat on my face. {sigh.} The coolness evades me.

Those checkout systems were designed solely for purposes of self inducing insanity. They nag you when the smallest chip settles in your bag of Doritos, with accusatory sessions of shoplifting. Very loudly. I’m all, trying to figure out what’s going on, while it decides to lecture me in front of the entire store, and security calls for a cavity check. Do they think I’m going to hide a gallon of milk in my lady parts?

PLEASE PLACE ITEMS IN THE BAG.

PLEASE TAKE ITEM OUT OF THE BAG.

PLEASE MOVE THE BAG 5 DEGREES TO THE LEFT, LIFTING TWICE.

DO NOT PLACE IN BAGGING AREA UNTIL IT HAS BEEN SCANNED…

Seriously???? QUIT SCREAMING AT ME! I’m not that special.

One of these days I’m going to have a break down, and start eating everything I just purchased, as I sit on that horrid bagging system. I’ll be all, weigh that, suckas! While they remove me via security. The rentacops will show up, while I shove the last donut into my mouth and do a fat girl victory dance on the scanner.


A short tangent regarding gas stations: Why do they choose to operate in as many different ways as possible? I mean, I have a college education, half a master’s, and I can figure out how to take care of my children. Every day. {We’re at least on functioning level.} I consider myself a fairly intelligent person.

REMOVE THE NOZZLE

SCAN CARD

PAY INSIDE

DON’T PAY INSIDE

SCAN CARD AGAIN

ENTER PIN

DON’T ENTER PIN

YOUR CARD SUCKS

SELECT FUEL GRADE

All the while I desperately gaze at the smoky screen, trying to decode an M from an N…

This was me last week, in the freezing rain, trying to figure out why the machine planted by Satan was making me drag all three children inside. And in addition, Of course the nozzle was missing it’s propping system, where you can just pull the trigger and go sit happily with the rest of your belongings in the warm fuzzy car. How do those break anyway?

My guess: a result of the last customer’s meltdown.

And in conclusion, I would also like to give a big shout out to all the banking/pharmaceutical/anythingwithabutton drive thru windows out there in the world. I can never for the life of me get close enough, without shifting my car into park all so I might maneuver my awkward stance to push the stupid BUTTON, which, by the way, has been placed three feet below my window.

It’s like they made those for all the Miata drivers out there. Probably driven by skinny jean-wearing college gals who just purchased their tampons and are now going to check daddy’s balance at the bank in their convertible. I think it’s safe to say Miatas are in a minority. It’s like they place a camera over my vehicle just to watch me struggle, and then at the end of the day all the employees gather round for their own personal happy hour, laughing hysterically at the dumb look on my face while I forward, reverse, forward, reverse, exit car, chinese firedrill…reverse…wait. I’m not in the car yet…

Glad I could contribute to good times via surveillance cameras galore.

I have the distinct feeling I’m on a website, somewhere, under the title: fat girl gets stuck in drivethru.

How comforting with the warm fuzzies that does bring. I think I need a call to arms on a nationwide boycott via automated systems galore. Where’s MY happy hour?

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