The day of the Self-Checkout Monster

 

Ok. I do not enjoy shopping.

I enjoy shopping even less when I have children in tow.

So I avoid shopping.

Mercifully, there are things in my life like Amazon delivery and Walmart pickup.

I also have a Mother-in-law who very graciously does about 90% of our grocery shopping for us. It's wonderful. Everyone needs an amazing Mother-in-law.

But there are days- like today- when I bravely venture into the grocery store for myself. There are days- like today- when I do it with kids. 

The baby carrier mostly filled up my cart. Thankfully, my 5 year old helper was more than willing to push another cart, which we loaded with milk, golden (as indicated by the pricetag) eggs, and fresh produce. We also hoarded all the cheese and a bunch of the yogurt from the discount corner.

So far, so good.

Then we went to check out.

Gulp.

No one had warned me that the Helpful Smile in Every Aisle had been replaced by Beasts, of the species named Self-Checkout.

I will pause my story to say that the Self-Checkout concept is genius. I used to choose to use them. That was pre-kid. I can say with 99.9% certainty that the person who made the decision to go exclusively to self-checkouts does not have 4 kids ages 7 & under, and in the 0.01% chance that they do, they do not take them grocery shopping with them. Even though I only had 2 kids (who were actually quite cooperative) with me this time, by the time it was time to check out, they needed my attention.

I looked around with panic in my eyes, for that one checkout with the long line, that was run by a Real, Live Human. Not finding it, I stepped bravely up to the kiosk.

About 4 items in, I scanned the wrong code on a discount item, so an employee stepped in & corrected it. 

Then came the fresh produce. You can't just scan the sticker, you have to push this button, then key in the 4 digit number, then weigh it. 

Oh, why did I get bananas AND oranges AND apples???

About halfway through, Baby started crying. I paused the slow scanning process to stick her pacifier in and pat her head. At least no one was behind us. 

I contemplated leaving the rest of my groceries in the cart & walking out. 

Then, just as my own tears were about to spill out, an employee came up & asked, "Would you like some help?"

"I would LOVE some help."

Somehow, between the two of us, we managed to get the baby quieted and all the groceries scanned and bagged and paid for without The Mother having a complete meltdown.

The elderly lady one kiosk over was also struggling. She told her assistant, "I really just like to look at a smiling face, not a computer."

Somehow, we got all the groceries and the baby back into two carts, and the 5 year old and I maneuvered everything to the car & got it unloaded from the cart and loaded into the car.

The whole ordeal took way more emotional energy than I had allotted, and it took half the afternoon for my stomach to untie itself.

Meanwhile, I've had some interesting food for thought.

1. My thoughts have progressed from "I'm never trying that again" to "Well, next time I'll KNOW that's what's coming, and I'll not put so many things in my cart" to "This is the world my kids are growing up in" to "I'll just take the 7 year-old- he would think it's FUN."

2. Realizing that my 7-year-old will all too soon be smarter than I am, when it comes to electronics takes me way back to the days when I did my schoolwork in my bedroom and my mom was learning to do email in her office next door. "JOY! Can you come?" I'd roll my eyes but come, feeling very important, and walk her step by step through the process. I finally wrote out step by step instructions, and she could send an email without me.

Now the chant that is running relentlessly through my head, to the tune of na-na-na-na-boo-boo, is "You're becoming your mother! You're becoming your mother!"

3. Na-na-na-na-boo-boo does have a correct pronunciation, and I HAVE been pronouncing it correctly (on the rare occasion it seems appropriate). I looked it up. It also means what I thought. I looked that up, too. 

4. Becoming my mother isn't a bad thing. She's (now) one of my favorite people, and I'd be honored to be like her. 

5. "Hate is a really strong word, and you may not use it until you're old enough to understand fully what it means" is what we teach our kids. This means I'm not allowed to use the H-word either. But I really passionately disliked my Self-Checkout experience today.

6. I really passionately like friendly smiles in every aisle. 

7. The End.

8. Now that I've aired out my head, maybe I can get some sleep :)