So there I stood in line at the local grocery store with my measly two items. There were three checkout lanes open; each one having several people in line and all with no less than 20 items each. I looked around and chose a lane all the while praying the Express Lane would open. The cashier at my checkout lane was new to me; he strongly resembled the guy in Two and a Half Men — the tall comedian who plays Judith’s husband? Anyway, he’s just a tad nervous and twitchy as he’s checking the millions of groceries of the lady ahead of me. Almost all of her items have run the conveyor gauntlet towards the bagger and it’s at that moment she decides to start pawing through her purse for her coupons. If I’m lyin’ I’m dyin’, this lady stood there for a good three or four minutes trying to find each and every coupon — now you know most of us savvy shoppers have our handy dandy coupons ready in our chubby little hands along with our credit card or checkbook, but not this woman.
She finally dug them all out and gave them to Mr. Twitchy. He started scanning, got about halfway through them and one of the coupons wouldn’t ring up. He stopped everything, walked around his checkout station and over to the bags that were already full and proceeded to go through them looking for the item in question. Of course I piped up with, “Can’t you scroll through the receipt and look for the item?” “Nope,” he said, “This new system doesn’t work that way.” To which I added, “Well, that’s just dumber than dirt.” He finally found the item. But now he couldn’t get the little green screen asking him the price of the item to disappear from his cash register read-out. He kept banging on the keys, but that screen wouldn’t leave. He called another cashier over and she banged the same key and came to the same conclusion; that screen wasn’t going to disappear.
In the meantime, it’s been about 90 minutes now that I’ve been waiting as the next person in line and, shoot, I only have two items; a pint of Hagen Daz Rum Raisin ice cream, and a jar of salsa. The lady behind me points at my items and says, “You got a strange combination there.” I turned to her and replied, “I know and if the ice cream melts, the combination of salsa and ice cream don’t work as well.” She looked at me and said, “You can’t be serious — you don’t really mix those two, do you??” I put my best honest look on my face and said, “You only need a dollop of the salsa on top of the ice cream, and I’m telling you it’s the most amazing taste combination I have ever experienced!” She looked at me a moment longer, then said, “Hmmmph, guess I’ll have to try it.”
By that time I was internally hemorrhaging, ready to wet my pants, and trying to keep a straight face as Mr. Twitchy started humming while he remained steadfast in his efforts to erase that pesky green screen. He finally pulled out a key from his pocket, unlocked the cash register and pressed some type of reset. He kept humming and remarked, “Well there we go now; that wasn’t so bad, was it?” I almost choked, I had tears forming and was on the verge of hysteria.
Where do these people come from and please Lord don’t let them reproduce. Salsa on ice cream. It was just too easy.