OK, so yesterday I sort of “went off” on Facebook & Twitter because of a lady on a cell phone. Even worse, HOLDING a cell phone. I realize that sometimes its the ‘little things’ that get you going, and I also realize I’m in danger of becoming the Andy Rooney of my generation. So be it.
Being a 24/7 card carrying Blackberry freak, I have no problem with you, your phone, your laptop or even your iPad or equivalent. Stay on them 24 hours a day for all I care, as long as it doesn’t interfere or hold up other people!!
Now. To the incident that started my weekend.
First of all, I love self checkouts!
Call me?
Maybe its the geek in me that considers it just another gadget. I get there and internally I have a race with myself to get through the process as quickly as possible. Unless I have 30 items, I always check myself out. If there are people waiting, I consider it my duty to do the procedure like the Flash going through pizza, so that others can have their turn. I think of myself as the ‘Lance Armstrong of the self checkout lane‘, (minus the EPO and the fact that Sheryl Crow won’t return my calls!).
At the same time, I hate checkouts (self OR staffed) when people aren’t prepared to “do their bid-ness” and get going. If you wait until AFTER the total is given to you, and you THEN pull out your checkbook and start to write, making sure that your third grade writing instructor would be proud as you slowly and meticulously write each and every letter as a DaVinci work of art, we’ve got a problem. You should have been filling in the date and all the superfluous stuff before this point. You’re holding up the line!
So yesterday, on the way home, I stop by Kroger, for a couple of items. In and to the self checkout in less than two minutes. Knew what I wanted, got the items and headed to the lane.
Meowwwwww....
It was there I met my nemesis. The ‘Lex to my Clark’. The ‘Bird to my Magic’. The ‘Catwoman to my Batman’. (Though this sure wasn’t Julie Newmar!)
She stood there, at the self checkout, slow, meticulously, utilizing one hand to scan her items through the machine. I repeat, utilizing ONE HAND to scan her items through the machine! Why, one hand? Because, she couldn’t put down her precious iPhone from the OTHER hand. Now, lets assume there is an emergency call that someone NEEDS to take. I have ZERO problem with you talking to your bookie about this week’s big game, your kid’s principal about why once again he’s in detention, or any other such stuff. Emergencies happen!
So, I do tolerate emergencies. I do. I’m understanding in that sort of way. Helluva guy, that BBM!
She wasn’t talking on her phone. She was holding it. She wasn’t talking on her phone. She was holding it. (Yes, this was repeated for emphasis) Holding it like a pacifier.
This wasn’t a person with 2 or 3 or 5 items. Probably 20 – 25. And each one was individually dragged across the scanner with one hand, iPhone HELD in the other and then clumsily placed one handed in a bag. (Keeping in mind that if there wasn’t an open bag, she had to set the ITEM down (not the precious phone), pull open a bag, and THEN place the item in the bag.) Added to this was the fact that after every single item, she’d do a 360 look around the area to see if anything had changed in the store in the last 10 seconds.
The Author (computer aged)
I realize that most people probably wouldn’t have even noticed this. She was 75% done when I walked up. The whole incident as I noticed it might have only taken 2, maybe 3 minutes. That’s not the point, TYVM. The point is, it was flat out rude to not get your ample butt in gear, put down the phone, and check your items.
Maybe I need to take up yoga, or deep breathing or some other relaxing exercise. I’ll check into that. One day.
PS.. As I was walking to the parking lot, she was meticulously (I like that word) loading her items from the cart into the back of her standard issue mini-van. She was doing it one handed. Her left hand still clutching the iPhone that had caused the world so much grief and anguish.
Somebody get ‘Seal Team Six’ on the phone. I’ve got a job for them.
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Ever get tired of the messages that appear on your computer screen aimed at someone who will never friggin SEE it?
I’m excited! Six months after the US Women won the World Cup in soccer in ’99, I met Brandi Chastain at a television trade show. She was promoting a women’s sports show. At that time I got her to autograph the Sports Illustrated cover which appeared with her on it shortly after the championship. (I had carted it all the way to Las Vegas)
