Don't Help Me

More and more, grocery stores are putting in self-checkout aisles to eliminate standing in long lines, which I love, since my goal is to get in and out of the place as fast as possible. Now if they could just eliminate the people overseeing them...

Two weeks ago, I was at a self-checkout that had a conveyor belt. When your checked items filled the space at the end, the belt stopped and you had to bag before you could check the rest through. Usually, they have one person working all these lanes who helps bag, thus moving people along quickly.

Except in my case. Thanks to "Helpful Hanna", it took me twice as long.

After sending down my pack of mega jumbo, ultra-soft, 18-ply, no shred toilet paper and one toothbrush, the bagging area was full and "Hanna" was busy with someone else. Leaving my still mostly full cart by the scanner, I ran down to bag. No sooner had I hefted my 36-pounds of toilet paper onto the ledge than "Hanna" almost knocked me over trying to get up to the scanner, and before I could stop her, hit the "finish and pay" button.

Um. Excuse me. Did you happen to notice that large, metal cart prodding you in the hip and still filled with food? Any idea what that would indicate? Would you like to buy a vowel or maybe phone a friend?

"How are you paying?" she asked briskly, obviously pleased as punch with herself for moving the (non-existent) line along.

"I'm not done yet," I indicated my cart which she had conveniently shoved behind her into the main aisle, causing a four cart pile-up near the information stand.

"Oh." She seemed surprised to see it. "Do you need to scan those items too?"

No. I just spent the better part of an hour selecting random groceries to take on a joyride through produce. Yes I need to scan them.

Big sigh. "I'll have to call a supervisor to override," she said as though hoping I would just take my toilet paper and leave.

Okay. Any time this century would be fine. And so my "express checkout" took me only eighteen times as long as standing in the regular lanes, thanks to all the help.

Four days later, different store, different set-up, same problem.

As I placed my green peppers on the scanner and hit the "produce" and then "peppers" buttons, a hand suddenly came darting past me to push the "back" button two times in rapid succession.

Obviously mistaking the murderous glint in my eyes for confusion as I rounded on her, the self-checkout monitor indicated the itty-bitty little sticker with the teeny tiny numbers on it stuck to the bottom of one of the peppers that was obviously made for people with super-human vision.

"See that?" she said. "You can just enter the six digit code here instead of pressing the "peppers" button. Isn't that much easier?"

Hmmm. Let's see. Going on a search and rescue mission through the jungle I call a purse to find my reading glasses which are always buried in the bottom, then diving in a second time for a tissue to clean off the giant smudges before finding the one out of six peppers that actually has a sticker on it and entering the code or touching the square on the screen that has a picture of peppers on it. Wow. That's a real head-scratcher. After careful consideration, I think I'll have to go with "B" and touch the picture.

And I did so. But again, her hand shot out to touch "go back".

"That's okay," she chirped. "I have bifocals. I'll read the code to you."

Or you could just get away from me and go slow someone else down.

God save me from helpful people!