Pretty much every shop that sells anything these days has an ‘express’ checkout section brought to you by the same people who invented waterproof teabags and listen to Justin Bieber. The point of these self-service checkouts is for the customer to pretend they work in retail… scan, bag and pay for their own shopping. These tills were designed to speed up transactions and eliminate long queues when in fact they were actually introduced to the world just to piss me off! The only people who love the self-service checkouts are those who have purchased super-duper ultra plus tampons, and they don’t want the cashier to know that they have a heavy flow. Convenience… efficiency… speed are all great buzz words! However I find these words more appropriate… Massive… waste… of… fucking… time. The first time I encountered a self-service checkout in Tesco I was overwhelmed with the ultimate childhood dream of being my own shop keeper! Like scanning tins of food and weighing fruit is totally fun so don’t pretend you don’t love it. However it was apparent that simply trying to complete one poxy shopping transaction wasn’t gonna be all ‘LOLZ and bants!’ Here are 5 reasons why…
If you are trying to find the price for an exotic item like a croissant… then you’re screwed. Un-bag that shit honey and swap with fish fingers, because going through the infinite list of savoury like food on the screen and trying to match the pictures up with your beloved croissant… is just not worth the hassle.
Buying alcohol is a pain in the hole. Lights start flashing like you’ve won a competition you never even entered when you scan your bottle of wine. You’re now left frantically looking around for a sales assistant in this dramatic over exaggerated way whilst shaking your head, just so it’s clear to the backed up queue behind you that none of this is your fault.
There is ALWAYS an unidentified item in your fecking bagging area! Even if this item is invisible and thin air, the voice in the machine will interrupt your flow and make you look like a prick in front of your fellow shoppers.
The self-service till has issues with accepting any cash notes that may be only a tiny bit creased… because ya know… it demands perfection and again likes to make you look like a complete tosser who is incapable of operating heavy machine. Having your money rejected is up there with trying to make the damn thing recognise you have your own bags and you’re not trying to steal anything!
Peer pressure! A member of staff always tries to usher you into the self-service line even when you don’t wanna, and it’s like you’re judged for not wanting to pay for your sandwich by this cruel mocking machine. Sometimes I just don’t need that kind of anxiety in my life. I don’t mind queuing with the rest of them in order to be served by a human being, where you don’t have to have a PhD in Physics and cheat codes to buy some bananas and use your fucking club card!