Check me out...
When the hell did we agree to check ourselves out at the grocery store? Used to be I could stand there in line reading about the latest celebrity alien impregnation while the cashier handled everything and a bag-boy would put my shit in a bag AND carry it out for me. Now everything costs more but I gotta scan my own purchases (as if I know which side the freakin' barcode is on a box of wine), run my own card, bag my own crap, push it to the car and then find the ever-elusive cart return and wave thanks buh-bye on the way out?
Seriously!? I'm a stay home parent, I came here for a break. Why don't these companies do what they're paid for? With this kind of hassle I should have headed out to the farm myself and bartered for my produce. All I want to do is pull out my phone and bust some freaking bubbles or stare blankly at Facebook for 5 minutes with no kids bugging me (if I was lucky enough to get out without them). Instead you have me following orders from a robot that doesn't know my bag from a hole in the ground. "I placed the item in the bag, Asshole!!"
Another thing, I don't want to carry your crappy little key-chain widgets or stuff another membership/VIP/Savings-out-the-ass card in my wallet. Unless that card is good for redemption on a real-life cashier and a pimply faced kid to transport my crap to the Dad-mobile you can shove it. Well, on second thought, I will take the card because I'm on a budget, but I'm writing in my name as Seymour Butts.
Perfect example of a First-World problem, I know, but still...
No comments:
Post a Comment