(Stands at the mic, looks around nervously)
Alright, how's everyone doing? Good, good.
You know, I feel like we're living in a world where everything is designed to be
"more convenient," but it's
really just more work for us. We're being tricked into doing all the jobs.
My main enemy right now is the self-checkout machine at the grocery store. You k
now the one. It's not a mach
ine, it's a passive-aggressive robot judge. It has one job: to weigh things. And
it is TERRIBLE at it.
The other day, I'm buying a single bag of salad. That's it. I'm trying to be hea
lthy, which is already a str
essful situation. I scan the bag. The machine says, (in a chipper, robotic voic
e) "Please place the item in the bagging area."
Okay, easy enough. I place the bag of lettuce, which weighs less than my conscie
nce, into the plastic bag.
And the machine just loses its mind. The light starts flashing, a siren I've nev
er heard before goes off. (
In a panicked robot voice) "UNEXPECTED ITEM IN THE BAGGING AREA. PLEASE REMOVE
THIS ITEM."
What unexpected item?! The bag? The bag I'm putting the item into? In the bag
ging area? What did you thi
nk was going to happen here, you glorified scale? Did you expect me to just levi
tate my groceries home?
So I take the salad out. The machine goes quiet. I put it back in. The siren goe
s off again. We do this danc
e three times. Me, the salad, and this deeply confused robot. People are startin
g to stare. I look like I'm trying to shoplift the saddest thing in the entire s
tore.
Finally, the dreaded message comes up: "Please wait for assistance." And the lig
ht on top starts flashing. I
t's the retail walk of shame.
And this teenager, who has the energy of someone who's been awake for 72 hours,
just saunters over. He
't even look at me. He just sighs, types in a secret code like he's defusing a b
omb, hits the screen three times, and walks away.
He fixed it. And I'm left standing there, thinking… what was the code? What's th
e secret? Was it 1-2-3-4? Wa
s it "lettuce"? I need to know! Because this is my life now. I'm a part-time, un
paid, deeply incompetent grocery clerk.
And my phone is no better. It's definitely listening to me. But it's a terrible
listener. It's like it only
picks up every third word. I was talking to my friend about needing a new lamp f
or my desk. A lamp. For the next three weeks, all my Instagram ads were for… bab
y lambs. Live ones.
Where am I gonna put a lamb? I don't have a yard! I guess I could try to put it
in the bagging area at the s
upermarket, but I think we all know how that would end.
Thank you, goodnight
