Now, notice I said the self checkout line. I had gathered up the four small items I needed and walked up to the rows of 6 machines that are supposed to help me with a "speedy checkout". At this particular store, a shopper waits in one line until one of the machines opens up, and I happened to be the first in that line. All 6 stations were occupied by other grocery store patrons with their baskets and carts. As I stood there--the minutes ticking by at an agonizingly slow pace--I took in all that was going on in front of me...
The lady to the far right, in a 30 second span of time, eager to "Superwoman" her cart full of groceries in a matter of moments, already had two failed scanning attempts which warranted the return of the self-checkout attendant to correct the blunders. The lady to the far left kept repeatedly scanning a bottle of hand soap even though the machine was blinking it's "Please place item in the bagging area" alert at her. She was literally looking at the screen as she kept scanning. I was confused for her. And then, bless the heart of the man at the station in front of me. He had a small basket full of items, a couple of which were already scanned and in bags. But oh, OH, that loathsome box of waffles that was the bane of his existence at that very moment. He had scanned it multiple times, but the computerized-voiced lady kept squawking, "Unexpected item in bagging area!" at him over and over until he let out an exasperated sigh and looked up at the ceiling, quietly mumbling, "There is not an unexpected item in the bagging area!" as if the grocery store gods might look upon him with pity and strike the machine down with a bolt of supermarket lightning. The self-checkout attendant was still assisting Mrs. Overly-Impatient-Scanner, so she did not have time yet to assist WaffleMan. Hand Soap Scanner had finally managed to move on to another item in her cart, but she was supposed to place that item in the bagging area as well...and that didn't look like it was about to go well for her, either. Just as I thought this whole self-checkout scanning debacle couldn't get any better (worse?), I looked ahead again to see WaffleMan--no joke--gently banging his head against his detestable box of breakfast staples. Oh these poor people! I didn't know whether to laugh or to assist. While laughing. But in that moment, a thought suddenly struck me...
We. Are. So. Impatient. Why are we as a society so fast-paced? Why can't we just "take a minute"? Why do we put ourselves through the agony of things like a self-checkout line to help us get through quicker...when in the long run, it takes just as much time (if not more) then going through a normal register with a real-life cashier? A few weeks ago, Hubs and I had dinner with a friend who is from a European country. I noticed how slowly he ate dinner and dessert...and how much he just conversed during our meal. Hubs and I scarfed down our food like Randy from A Christmas Story and were ready to clean off the table before our friend had taken two bites of his cake. What a "novel" idea: actually enjoying people and the time spent with them before speedily moving onto the next "item of business". Hmm, whodathought?
Mrs. Overly-Impatient Scanner, Madame Hand Soap, and WaffleMan had a need for speed. But how often do we do that, too? No, I'm not saying there is anything inherently wrong with self-checkouts or quick meals. I will probably do both again, many times. But maybe letting my food get cold every once in awhile while I dig into the life of a friend or forgoing a "speedy" self-checkout so I can smile at a frustrated cashier and wish him/her a good day aren't such bad ideas afterall. Slowing down a bit, taking in the world around me, and just enjoying life? I like the sound of that.
The lady to the far right, in a 30 second span of time, eager to "Superwoman" her cart full of groceries in a matter of moments, already had two failed scanning attempts which warranted the return of the self-checkout attendant to correct the blunders. The lady to the far left kept repeatedly scanning a bottle of hand soap even though the machine was blinking it's "Please place item in the bagging area" alert at her. She was literally looking at the screen as she kept scanning. I was confused for her. And then, bless the heart of the man at the station in front of me. He had a small basket full of items, a couple of which were already scanned and in bags. But oh, OH, that loathsome box of waffles that was the bane of his existence at that very moment. He had scanned it multiple times, but the computerized-voiced lady kept squawking, "Unexpected item in bagging area!" at him over and over until he let out an exasperated sigh and looked up at the ceiling, quietly mumbling, "There is not an unexpected item in the bagging area!" as if the grocery store gods might look upon him with pity and strike the machine down with a bolt of supermarket lightning. The self-checkout attendant was still assisting Mrs. Overly-Impatient-Scanner, so she did not have time yet to assist WaffleMan. Hand Soap Scanner had finally managed to move on to another item in her cart, but she was supposed to place that item in the bagging area as well...and that didn't look like it was about to go well for her, either. Just as I thought this whole self-checkout scanning debacle couldn't get any better (worse?), I looked ahead again to see WaffleMan--no joke--gently banging his head against his detestable box of breakfast staples. Oh these poor people! I didn't know whether to laugh or to assist. While laughing. But in that moment, a thought suddenly struck me...
We. Are. So. Impatient. Why are we as a society so fast-paced? Why can't we just "take a minute"? Why do we put ourselves through the agony of things like a self-checkout line to help us get through quicker...when in the long run, it takes just as much time (if not more) then going through a normal register with a real-life cashier? A few weeks ago, Hubs and I had dinner with a friend who is from a European country. I noticed how slowly he ate dinner and dessert...and how much he just conversed during our meal. Hubs and I scarfed down our food like Randy from A Christmas Story and were ready to clean off the table before our friend had taken two bites of his cake. What a "novel" idea: actually enjoying people and the time spent with them before speedily moving onto the next "item of business". Hmm, whodathought?
Mrs. Overly-Impatient Scanner, Madame Hand Soap, and WaffleMan had a need for speed. But how often do we do that, too? No, I'm not saying there is anything inherently wrong with self-checkouts or quick meals. I will probably do both again, many times. But maybe letting my food get cold every once in awhile while I dig into the life of a friend or forgoing a "speedy" self-checkout so I can smile at a frustrated cashier and wish him/her a good day aren't such bad ideas afterall. Slowing down a bit, taking in the world around me, and just enjoying life? I like the sound of that.
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