"Cute column! I had this happen once. But when I got up to the register, my card wouldn't swipe. So we had to unload all the bags and scan them again. Then the guy behind me had an unswipable card too...That really saved a lot of time...NOT!" ~Jeanni Brosius~ |
Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am... The Attack of the Line Rushers I don't get out much in the world, but it's of my own doing. I don't even go to the post office or the grocery store unless it's absolutely necessary. It's not for lack of energy or hatred for humankind, mind you; it's the simple fact that my fingers are literally glued to the keyboard and nothing can pry them off. If you ever want to talk to me, grab a computer and email me. Well, tonight was one of those nights it was absolutely necessary. We needed to eat. So, I bundled up in this deep freeze we're having and headed to Wal-Mart. Now, in these parts, Wal-Mart is what they call a Super-Center. In other words, you can shop for dinner, have your hair cut and your tires rotated all at the same time. A working woman's paradise all in one. However, even with the opening of the new Food Lion in our area, nothing keeps the mobs of harried, get out of my way or I'll shoot you, masses from descending on the only Super Center in town. I get there and it seems like everyone had the same idea as I rode 'round and 'round the parking lot looking for a spot close to the door. It took about a half hour of waiting behind this lady who was taking her sweet time unloading her groceries knowing I was sitting there waiting for her to pull out, before I could even park. My son was yelling at me to find another place, but I did my best to ignore him for this was the prime parking place and it was mine if I had to spend the night there. We finally parked and went inside. The place had quite a few patrons as was natural for this time of night and the usual amount of cashiers for the heavy crowd...ONE. My daughter and her father had just walked through the door as my son and I were standing in the long line and I was telling him my usual complaints when I caught someone in the corner of my eye searching through my basket. Before I could open my mouth, another person pushed a card in my hand. I looked at it. It read, "Line Rushers". Before I looked up to ask what this meant, one of them was throwing bags into the cart while the other one threw my groceries in them. Then, they scurried away. I don't knowI felt like I was violated in some way. Did I ask them to do that? Why was I singled out? Did I have a bomb concealed in my brussell sprouts and they wanted to make sure they found it before I blew the store to smithereens? Just how far will store managers go to prevent maniacs from depriving them of their livelihood? But, this was not the case. They were called "Line Rushers" and this was supposed to save time. By the time you got to the cashier, all you had to do was present your card, pay for your goods and leave. No interaction between you and the cashier, except for thirty seconds of swapping card for greenback. I got to thinking, though. Why did I feel like I had been violated? Maybe I LIKE watching each item being scanned. Maybe I ENJOY the exercise of lifting my groceries out of the basket and onto the conveyor belt. And what about the vegetables that had to be weighed? Could I trust the Line Rushers to charge me the correct amount? And what if I had wanted to put something back at the last minute? Too late for that now! It was like in two minutes, the Line Rushers had changed everything that I was accustomed to. By the time I got to the cashier, I was whisked so fast through the line, I didn't get a chance to tell her about my day or nothingwham bam, thank you ma'am, and I'm out the door. Yes, it saved time. But, when you really think about it, I made up for it waiting for that perfect spot in the parking lot. Change...gotta love it. (Reprinted from the Eastern Shore News, February 5, 2003) |
Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am... The Attack of the Line Rushers I don't get out much in the world, but it's of my own doing. I don't even go to the post office or the grocery store unless it's absolutely necessary. It's not for lack of energy or hatred for humankind, mind you; it's the simple fact that my fingers are literally glued to the keyboard and nothing can pry them off. If you ever want to talk to me, grab a computer and email me. Well, tonight was one of those nights it was absolutely necessary. We needed to eat. So, I bundled up in this deep freeze we're having and headed to Wal-Mart. Now, in these parts, Wal-Mart is what they call a Super-Center. In other words, you can shop for dinner, have your hair cut and your tires rotated all at the same time. A working woman's paradise all in one. However, even with the opening of the new Food Lion in our area, nothing keeps the mobs of harried, get out of my way or I'll shoot you, masses from descending on the only Super Center in town. I get there and it seems like everyone had the same idea as I rode 'round and 'round the parking lot looking for a spot close to the door. It took about a half hour of waiting behind this lady who was taking her sweet time unloading her groceries knowing I was sitting there waiting for her to pull out, before I could even park. My son was yelling at me to find another place, but I did my best to ignore him for this was the prime parking place and it was mine if I had to spend the night there. We finally parked and went inside. The place had quite a few patrons as was natural for this time of night and the usual amount of cashiers for the heavy crowd...ONE. My daughter and her father had just walked through the door as my son and I were standing in the long line and I was telling him my usual complaints when I caught someone in the corner of my eye searching through my basket. Before I could open my mouth, another person pushed a card in my hand. I looked at it. It read, "Line Rushers". Before I looked up to ask what this meant, one of them was throwing bags into the cart while the other one threw my groceries in them. Then, they scurried away. I don't knowI felt like I was violated in some way. Did I ask them to do that? Why was I singled out? Did I have a bomb concealed in my brussell sprouts and they wanted to make sure they found it before I blew the store to smithereens? Just how far will store managers go to prevent maniacs from depriving them of their livelihood? But, this was not the case. They were called "Line Rushers" and this was supposed to save time. By the time you got to the cashier, all you had to do was present your card, pay for your goods and leave. No interaction between you and the cashier, except for thirty seconds of swapping card for greenback. I got to thinking, though. Why did I feel like I had been violated? Maybe I LIKE watching each item being scanned. Maybe I ENJOY the exercise of lifting my groceries out of the basket and onto the conveyor belt. And what about the vegetables that had to be weighed? Could I trust the Line Rushers to charge me the correct amount? And what if I had wanted to put something back at the last minute? Too late for that now! It was like in two minutes, the Line Rushers had changed everything that I was accustomed to. By the time I got to the cashier, I was whisked so fast through the line, I didn't get a chance to tell her about my day or nothingwham bam, thank you ma'am, and I'm out the door. Yes, it saved time. But, when you really think about it, I made up for it waiting for that perfect spot in the parking lot. Change...gotta love it. (Reprinted from the Eastern Shore News, February 5, 2003) |
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"Cute column! I had this happen once. But when I got up to the register, my card wouldn't swipe. So we had to unload all the bags and scan them again. Then the guy behind me had an unswipable card too...That really saved a lot of time...NOT!" ~Jeanni Brosius~ |
