A few years ago, while things were still normal, I went shopping on my own at the local supermarket and decided to try the self-checkout. Being familiar with computers I felt confident that I could handle it. After accumulating what I needed I ventured to the area under the ‘Self Checkout’ banner and looked at the machines, realizing I may have made a mistake. I began by putting stuff on the side space for bagging when the voice, a female voice, maybe one of my old nuns from Catholic School, immediately started yelling at me. I know it was female since she was telling me what I should do. A store employee came to my rescue and helped me out of the crisis, asking me if my wife knew I was there alone.
Since that fatal day, I have always avoided the self-checkout, favoring the little old lady with her apron and nametag, or a disengaged teenager with plugs in his ears to ring me up.
This morning I saw a list of items on the kitchen table. Items that fulfill my desire to eat therefore important are what the list is all about. I go into my den and TLW (The Little Woman) is putting on her sneakers.
“I think I’ll go to the store now while it is fairly empty.”
Me: “Take it easy, wear your mask and gloves.”
“Oh, I wear my mask, then put on my gloves before I go into the store. I take my shopper’s card out, get a scanner gun, and then when I check out scan my shopper’s card.”
Me: A scanner gun?”
Yeah, it tells you the prices as you shop and even totals up the amount as you go.”
Me: “What do you do with the gun, shoot it?”
The checkout reads the scanner, there’s a button that says ‘checkout’.
Me: “What about the voices?”
“WHAT voices???”
Me; “The ones I hear when I go near one of those self-checkout machines.”
“Someday, I have to take you with me as I shop, then we’ll see someone about those voices.”
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