...Again

It's true. Machines hate me. Near as I can figure, there must be some sort of networking site they are all hooked into that allows them to trade info on me and figure out how to make my life more difficult.

The latest machine to join forces with all the other evil machines in my life is the self-checkout counter at Home Depot.

The other day, I ran in to pick up three items. Three lousy little items. Naturally, they only had two check-out lanes open, both of which had lines that extended into the next state. Par for the course.

Why they even put in more than two or three lanes, I'll never know, because that's all that are ever open. Do they really think that taunting people who are holding hammers, saws and other assorted lethal tools with closed lanes is the smart thing to do?

Miraculously, the self-checkout lane seemed to be moving at a turtle's pace instead of a snail's, so I got in that line. Faster than you can recite volumes one to six of the Encyclopedia Britannica, I was at one of the machines swiping my first item. Beep. Into the bag it went. Second item. Beep. Also, into the bag. Third item. Beep. Onto the counter it went since the box was too big to bag.

And there is where the big 'ole fly landed smack in the ointment. The payment machine registered the item, but the large screen did not and the voice kept telling me to place the item back on the scanner.

Great. Dueling machines. Now they were no longer content to come after me one at a time. They were tag-teaming me.

I looked around for help from a store employee that did not have a computer chip running them. Several minutes of frantically waving my arms as though I were guiding a 747 in for a landing on aisle four finally attracted the attention of an employee who came over to see what the fuss was about.

"You didn't scan the last item," she explained patiently.

I pointed to the machine which indicated I had. She pointed to the checkout screen which said I hadn't.

Again, I pointed to the machine which said I had. Hey lady, just so you know, I can do this for quite a while before my arm gets tired. But something about the way I was baring my teeth at her must have made her rethink the whole competition thing, and she took out a passkey, scanned it, pushed some buttons, and indicated I should try...again.

There. That was all I wanted. Now was that so hard? I may not have said the words aloud, but she knew what I was thinking.

As she tried to make good on her escape, I scanned the item again, and...once again, it showed up on the payment screen, but not on the checkout screen. Boy, good thing I got help, otherwise I might be here all day. This time, I was less subtle in my request for help. I believe they heard me over in the next county.

Passkey in hand, the same woman came back...again, and repeated the totally useless steps she had already executed and...surprise! They didn't work...again.

Hey, maybe we should repeat the pointing exercises all over again too. They didn't work the first time, but, who knows, maybe twice is the charm.

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that the self-checkout line now rivaled the line for Space Mountain at Disneyland, and, added bonus, it was all men who were thinking, "Dumb woman. She should have stayed in aisle two where she belongs and leave the technical stuff to the guys."

As they sighed and shifted from one foot to another, I did my best to place the blame where it belonged...on the demon machine.

"What's that?" I bellowed. "It's broken...again?"

Something about the way they rolled their eyes told me they weren't buying it.

"Swipe your card," the woman advised me, clearly at a loss for what to do next.

I knew in my heart of hearts that it wouldn't work, but I humored her anyway and swiped my card.

No reaction from the monster machine, so she swiped her card...again. This time, I actually think I heard satanic laughter coming from the machine.

"It's frozen," she deduced when nothing changed...again.

No. Really? I never would have guessed by the way the screens haven't changed in the last...hmmm...let's see...hour! Now for the million dollar question. Can you unfreeze it or not? She surrendered without even trying to swipe her card again and advised me to try another line.

Another quick glance at the line of men waiting for the self-checkout machines told me to not even suggest just moving to another machine. I think I saw a few of them fashioning nooses and fingering axe blades as though warning me what would happen if I even looked like I was contemplating such a move.

Shooting the devilish machine one last malevolent look, I headed for another line. I was so over the whole self-checkout thing...again.

As if someone knew I was skating on the edge, they suddenly opened another lane and I quickly got into it since it was the shortest one and only wrapped around the building six or seven times.

When I finally got there though, I had to hold my breath that things would go smoothly since I would have to deal with the same woman that hadn't been able to help me with the self-checkout ...again!