SELF-SERVICE supermarket check-outs ought to be just up my street. You sort yourself out and there are none of those girls who fire things down as quickly as possibly in an attempt to get rid of you as swiftly as they can. I should be so lucky.
In the same way that women hold up ordinary check-outs by displaying that look of utter astonishment when asked for money – after all they’re only buying things … queue long period of unzipping various purse and handbag compartments – they have devised ways of turning an express check-out into the Snettlefold Stopping Train.
The other week I waited and fumed as a woman scanned all her stuff. She then took an age to decide whether to pay by cash or card. And it was only at that point that she got round to bagging up. A two-minute operation must have taken at least ten because, as we all know, supermarkets design their carrier bags so that they are virtually impossible to open.
Oh it’s such fun as the girl fires your stuff down the conveyor belt like bullets from a machine gun, and then looks down her nose at you as you struggle to open your first bag. Eventually, with the items piled up around you, she’ll harrumph and deftly open five or six bags with a twist of her well-manicured fingers. They must give them special lessons at training school or it’s just some sort of cruel joke they like to play on middle-aged men.
Another thing that frustrates me about self-service check-outs – and yes I’m talking about you, Morrison’s – is the way they ask you to start scanning, you deal with your first item – and then it asks you if you’ve brought your own bags. But by then it’s too late, the machine won’t play, and you have to wait until the woman comes to get you going. And it’s a long time since a woman got me going.
Something to watch out for in supermarkets is goods not corresponding to shelf labels. Last year I bought a cut-price duvet only to discover that some idle wart had picked up an expensive one, decided they didn’t want it, and tossed it into the discount bin. I thought my bill was a little high but it was only when I got home that I realised I’d been charged £22 instead of £9.99.
A few weeks later I bought a £2 pack of chocolate Christmas tree ornaments. Same thing again, a more expensive packet has been discarded and I ended up paying £3.25.