When it comes to the world of retail, and it's moronic inhabitants, I considered myself an expert. But I was oh so wrong. Experts have to have far more experience than I. However, after this past weekend, I am starting to catch up.
This past weekend, I was properly introduced to a new special breed of idiots. You know them as the people who go through "self-checkout" or, as my brother and I call it, U-SCAM. It's only fair to classify such a species into it's own breed. While there are several types of this breed, they all share some similar qualities. Kind of like platypus. Dopey looking with big mouths. They also have that "Do it yourself" attitude, which is to be expected at a hardware store, but not to this degree. No, these platypus have an air of pretentiousness about them. They somehow feel superior to other people because they know how to scan something. (I think that must be it, I can draw no other conclusions at this time. Further research is needed.)
So, needless to say, I was placed on the self checkout line for several stints this weekend. I was able to classify a few of the sub species of this particular brand of moron. Remember, that at the hardware store, a green light means go, and a red light means "Customer Needs Assistance," or, in non-corporate terms, someone is more than likely being an idiot. In no specific order, I have found the following:
The Waitless: These are the people who's time is far too important to stand in line. They will gladly run 1/3 of the way across the store to scan the items themselves, only to be tripped up by something like their card not scanning properly. They end up taking 10 minutes longer than expected. Then they feel satisfied after they leave that they saved themselves some time. Its only after they reached the door and see the person that was behind them in a normal line walking out ahead of them do they realize how anal they were. Next time, they will bring a better card.
The Weightless: These are the morons who don't understand the term "scale." OK, newsflash here, "scale" is not a chic term coined by some in group at the hardware store for the use of their self checkout. No, a "scale," as surprising as this sounds, is an instrument used to measure weight. You fat asses in Lane 37 remember this right? Its that thing you would step on, and after it got to the 4th digit, you would cry youself to sleep every night, remembering the good ol' days of when 800 was nice and trim. Can I offer you a dictionary with your order today? The worst thing about the Weightless is that sometimes, they don't get it, even after you explain it to them. They keep trying to pull stuff off of this weird "scale" and put it into their cart. Then, the little light above them flashes red, signaling their stupidity until I mercifully hit the button. Sometimes, I just let it flash and pretend I am busy with another customer. Makes it all the more funny to make the Weightless a little like the Waitless.
The "Not Drawn to Scale": This subspecies is similar to the Weightless, except they understand the concept of what a scale is, they just don't understand that it measures weight properly, and that a 1'x4'x16' piece of lumber isn't going to fit on a scale designed for a bag of fertilizer. Just isn't going to happen. They lean it up on the edge of the scale, so that it damn near smacks the camera dangling from our 40' ceiling. Then, when the red light goes off, they throw up their hands in disgust, claiming that they put the piece of "OMGTOOBIG" on the scale. No dickstump, you didn't. You leaned it up against the edge of the scale. Have you ever only put your toe on the scale in your bathroom? Its not an accurate reflection of your weight, regardless of how big your big toe actually is. Then, after I give them the green light, they complicate the matters by...you guessed it, trying to move the lumber so that it fits on the scale...thus setting off the red light.
The Mathematician: A very rare species, since most people understand 1st grade math. However, human ignorance knows no bounds. In an "effort" to keep transactions secure, the hardware store requires the last 4 digits of your credit card when charging a purchase. In other words, we are trying to dick with you. I understand NO reason for this, but we are actually REQUIRED to do it. In fact, we can't complete a sale with a credit card until we verify the last 4 digits on their credit card. (Note: Debit card is cool, you just punch in your pin and go. Whatev. But Credit cards? Oh no. We complicate those.)So, when the little old lady starts swearing at the machine because her credit card doesn't require a pin, it is time for me to save the universe from her wrath by making her feel like an idiot. This is the perfect sting for me, because the red light never comes on in this instance. No. I get to go all James Bond on her and walk up and humiliate her without anyone else knowing. Its a covert mission. Get in. Make em look stupid. Get out. And of course, thank them and tell them to have a nice day.After explaining to her (twice) that our store requires the last four digits on her card, and that if she looks at the touch screen where she scanned her order, she will see that it prompts her for such a thing, Ms. Mentalblock finally succumbs to my logic and listens to what the computer has been screaming at her to do for the last 3 minutes. She says that it doesn't make sense, and that she doesn't have to do that anywhere else she goes. This is true. Kroger, the Nail Salon, and the Psych Ward don't require the last four digits on your card. Thanks again, and have a nice day.
Faux Independent: So far, I consider this the pinnacle of the species, as these are the absolute worst. These are the people who will need to have items looked up. Bags of concrete, topsoil, a certain screw. They might need softner salt, a grill, or a propane exchange. None of these are all that bad, mind you, but remember, he is in SELF checkout. Knowing full well that you are going to require assistance in your purchase immediately nullifies any logic of going through a self checkout. Its a double time hassle to assist one customer for so long, when the majority of the masses have red lights above their heads, and a flustered look on their face that only gets worse the longer you spend with the Faux. It gets even better when the lines are full, and he asks you to ring him out. Um, hello? Self checkout. This makes the Faux even more irate, as he is forced to go into the "normal" checkout lines with the other "non-platypi." When he argues that you have a register, the common comeback is, yes, in emergencies. I can NOT help these 4 people with red lights over them because YOU don't want to wait in line. Excuse me, I have a mathematician on 38 who needs assistance remembering what the number 2 looks like. As I delve deeper into this cesspool, I will bring to light any more species I find of this fascinating, yet dangerous group of "people."
-Deimos
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