One thing that really grinds my gears is ‘Self-service
checkouts’. These machines cause more stress and even embarrassment when they
are being used than good, and never really speed up your process of another
tedious task –shopping. The self-service has the customer at its heart, really, but she just doesn’t work. Her
voice reminds of your old headteacher who could instil silence upon any puny child
in her path and left no trace behind her. She doesn’t look appealing and only
half of her works; her scales, her barcode scanner and her catalogue of items
are all broken. However, the some of the only things that work on her are the
speaker and well, that’s it.
One of the worst things about her is that dreadful voice. It
hits you, hard. As soon as you go anywhere near the tills her voice carries
itself into your eardrums and buries itself there, above all other sounds, the
pings of the scanners, the clashes of the Nascar style aisles with the crash of
trollies, the tutting of stuck up old women at small mischievous children, and
overall the most surprising thing it gets over, your girlfriend’s voice
ordering you where to go, which is always the self-service, despite having well
over ten items. Now, I can’t say I’m an expert in self-service etiquette but
even I know, if you have over ten items, it is a sin to verge into the
minefield of the self-service area.
Another thing about her is that she always seems to be in a
rush. It is almost like she is programmed to spend 30 seconds each on a
customer and any longer her electricity is slowly amped down for her poor work
rate. “Please scan your items”. One second later… “Please scan your items”. Again,
one second later… “Please scan your items”, can she please slow down? Does she
need to go somewhere?
All she was designed to do was scan my items and add them up,
then let me get on with my day, but every
time without fail she seems to mess it up. Another thing wrong is her scales,
they must be senseless, because unless you put a huge lead weight on to that
metal plate, you hear the voice of Satan’s wife herself, yet again “Please put
your item in the bagging area”, so with a huge huff and with reluctance, you do
as told and pick it up to place it down calmly, holding back your anger
bubbling up your spinal cord and making its way to your brain. Still she
repeats herself and you feel yourself becoming more and more angry and applying
more and more pressure on each repeat. Then on the 32nd time, she
finally decides to let you go onto your next item. Again, the same thing
happens and this time it is the worst case scenario; the huge red light above
your head starts to flash, the embarrassment takes a firm grip of you and turns
your face redder than the light raging above you and without doubt, it is
always your fault according to your girlfriend. So the assistant has to come to
help you, that is, if they are even in sight; self-service assistants are right
next to the dodo on the extinct list, because they are just never there. One
other thing she just loves to blare out of her 99p speakers is “unexpected item
in the bagging area”. Oh boy! Do I love hearing her say that it never gets old,
not even after 69843 times.
Now onto the only good part of the ghastly ordeal -the
payment. But only if you’re lucky; if you go to some selected stores hidden
away in the urban landscape some of these contraptions have a special way of
collecting your cash, conveyor belt that eats your change. That is the only bit
I like on the whole machine. It feels like it is screaming for pennies to eat.
It makes you think why they rush you on so much, to eat as much change as
possible, maybe? Greedy things. Seeing the coins being sucked up by this
reminds you of why you do go through the calamity of shopping. And as you leave the shop, you notice it
again. That voice droning on. “Have you brought your own bag?”
