First off — Dick Jones is BACK! Sorry for the hiatus — and I MEAN that! Peggy & I have been in the throes of moving — in this case, from 2,729 squares to 1,250 squares — can you say “Daily Fresh Hell”? But that’s a whole ‘Nuther Oprah for another Blog Entry or five…
So, as a reminder, while being a “Simple Shite”, as are many of my middle-aged brethren, I ain’t stew-pit; having said that, am I the ONLY retart that always always ALL-WAYS has SOME kind of “trouble” when opting for the Self-Service Checkout line in ANY retail establishment? I mean — What the FUCK?!
Now, I will admit to being “1 strike behind” at the very prospect of interacting with a machine, versus a semi-live body. The second pitch that I TRY to not be bothered with is the “English or Spanish” choice that I’m greeted with — REALLY?! And just HOW long is it gonna be before THAT “order of choices” is reversed, I wanna know? “Soldier On, Jones!”, so I do.
“Bring Your Own Bag?” “Yeah, I DID — she’s sitting out in the car — now can I BUY this shit and get on my way?” Why no, you CAN’T — but thanks for asking; meanwhile, I got 30 more nebulous and meaningless questions to ask you first, and about a dozen OTHER tricks up my sleeve to put you on the road to a detour to the nearest “liquor-serving establishment” directly after I’m finished having my way with you!
Aside: How’s come there is ALWAYS a scuzzy film on BOTH bar code scanner windows of EVERY self-serve kiosk? Hell, it’s bad enough trying to get your item to actually scan properly when those windows are as clean as the Queen of England’s skivvies, let ALONE when they look like they ALWAYS do — covered with what looks like Ebola Biohazard! Wipe ’em down with your hand? Uh — YOU go first!
So — I begin sliding the item over the bar-code scanner, OVER & OVER & OVER AGAIN — right up to the time that that “fingers-on-a-chalkboard” female voice tells me: “Please wait for an attendant.” In other words, the “Self Service Portion Of The Program” has just been removed from the equation.
Now I gotta WAIT while the “attendant”, who has the look of a zombie with a lobotomy, lifts his/her ass off the stool and waddles over to my kiosk, where he/she tries the VERY SAME thing that *I* did — runs the item OVER & OVER & OVER AGAIN past each of the two scuzzy-windowed bar code scanners — did you not see ME doing the very same fucking thing?! Is YOUR hand movement somehow BETTER than MINE, I wanna know? No, it’s NOT — so now LZ (Lobotomized Zombie) waddles back over to his/her “Master Of The Self-Serve Kiosks Station” to get a bottle of Windex and a roll of paper towels — Meanwhile, back at the ranch…
On his/her way back with Windex & towels in tote, some OTHER pilgrim grabs him/her for help with THEIR respective Self Service Checkout Fresh Hell, which OF COURSE has IMMEDIATE priority over MY Self Service Checkout Fresh Hell — Fuck ME all to pieces! At this point, my alter-ego is reminding me of the LAST Self-Service Checkout experience, where I tole’ myself that I would NEVER EVER try Self Service Checkout AGAIN — “Remember, Retart?” Yeah, I remember — now go back in your cage!
10 minutes later, after the other pilgrim is taken care of — “I’ll meet you at the bar, Pilgrim!” — LZ makes his/her way back to my situation, cleans the glasses on the scanners, and FINALLY gets success scanning my FIRST item. Aside: Woe is you or me if there are MULTIPLES of the same item! Scan-Fail Scan-Fail Scan-Fail Scan-Fail — SUCCEED; now repeat this sequence for as many multiples as you have — Aneurysm yet? But wait — dere’s MORE! “Item Too Big For Bagging Area.” “Check Bagging Area For Item.” “Remove Item From Bagging Area.” “Shove Item Up Your Ass And Rotate Three Times…”
Think you’re done yet? Nope — MORE fucking questions! “Do you want to enter your phone number to help with returns?” No — I want to enter my phone number so you’ll call me for a date — Jesus Henry Christ! FINALLY — “Thank You For Shopping At The Chinese-Manufactured Goods Emporium — Now Get Out!” Gladly — is 9AM too early to commence to drinking?