May 10, 2018
So, there I was at the checkout counter of a local business. I was having a small issue – the register was not reading one of my purchases. As I tried to work it out with the friendly, very helpful person on the other side of the counter, I felt a presence nearby.
Was it the Force…a Jedi Knight contacting me through the cosmos to implore me to join their galactic battle against the Empire? Perhaps I had developed Spidey senses after watching “Avengers: Infinity War” Monday with my Bride. Then again, it could be old school mind reading, and I had suddenly acquired psychic powers.
No such luck. Instead, it was the mouth breather behind me who had taken an unnatural interest in my commercial dealings. On a good day I would have been annoyed. This was not such a day. Besides, I had my credit card out, and as much as I have faith in the trustworthiness in my fellow consumers, that confidence does not extend to their protection of my credit rating.
So at the risk of seeming rude, I’ll lay it out for you. A fleeting moment of shared space in the checkout line does not make us buddies embarking on a spiritual quest. There’s a little thing called Personal Space. And since we’re on the subject, I’ve got some other things I’d like to get off my chest:
I’ve said it before and I will say it again – when you go to a store and purchase items, you must pay for them. So please stop acting like this is the first time you’ve ever heard the phrase “commercial transaction” and have your money, check or credit card prepared to pay before you get to the counter. This is not a futuristic Grocitorium where food stuffs are free. You know this. Act like it. Moving on…
I am sure that the epic saga of your little baby Huey‘s case of the croup is riveting. Hollywood studios are no doubt in a bidding war for the script. However, not everyone in line shares your entrancement with the bodily functions of the aforementioned little tyke. Pay for your diapers and go home. After all, Tinsel town might be calling.
And Don Juan – the person on the other side of the counter might be attractive, but (believe it or not) they are there to work. This is not a grocery Grindr dating service. You are making a purchase. The time you spend deciding on paper or plastic is not foreplay in Consumer Speed Dating.
However, I am sure the person getting a price check on your Rogaine is totally into you and appreciates your laser like appraisal of her body. No, Mr. Suave. It’s not creepy at all. But here’s a valuable tip, Genius: They call it a “Checkout” aisle so you can pay for your items, not so you can check out the person working the register.
And another thing…what? I’m holding up the line by talking too much? Ummmm…sorry. I’ll just pay for my Grippo’s BBQ chips and go.