I find that as I grow older and civilization advances that more and more strange things seem to happen. For example, I was in a store and was ready to check out, and I chose a line to a self-check out register. You know the kind that they have available so that you do not have to wait in a regular line behind a person who waits until the clerk (associate) has rung up all the items in the cart. She/he then decides that perhaps they should get out the old credit card. Naturally, it can’t be found for some time. When it is found, the person has to figure out where the card goes. As most cards today have the little implant, they realize it has to be stuck in the front of the reader. That is good, but then they remove it before everything has cleared and then they have to go through the process again. Finally, they are reminded to sign. That is done, and the next person waits while the computer finally gets up enough nerve to print out the receipt.
Well, you certainly do not want to wait in a line like that, so I headed to the self-service line where you are certain that people who use such a register are somewhat computer savvy. Then I discovered that the person in front of me had absolutely no idea what should be done. (All the other self-service lines have many people waiting by this time.) The store has a roving helper – somewhere. When that person wandered by my line, the person in front of me decides, “Hey, perhaps this person can help!” However, by the time that determination is made the rover is past, and he/she must wait for the rover to return. This takes sometime as a person a couple of registers up is being helped. When the rover returns, I helped corral her so the person in front of me can be properly advised. The rover explains the process to the person in question who nods and goes to work. Unfortunately, a problem immediately comes up, and we wait for the rover again.
Yep, the self-service line is much better! When the person in front of me (who had one item by the way) disappeared, I went to work. I had arranged my items so that the reader could read the little birthmarks on the packages. This was good as the other folks behind me were in a grumbling mood. I zipped through the process and picked up my receipt. Then I noted a slight mistake, and I kid you not, the computer had charged me $29,800 for some raspberries. I have no idea how the transaction got past the bank who has my poor beat-up credit card. Naturally, I then had to go to another part of the store to correct the matter – which was done among much giggling. When I buy berries, I guess that I have to really watch as one time I was charged $300 for a small package of blueberries in Telluride, Colo.
Not all that occurred last week was of that nature. Someone sent me a photo of a “Historical Marker” on a golf course lake (not ours). The words on the marker were as follows:
“On this exact spot in the afternoon of Aug. 5, 2017 a marital dispute was won by the husband. At12:58 he told his wife she shouldn’t drive the golf cart because she was a horrible driver. Five minutes later, she accidentally drove cart #42 into the lake”.
I took this to a meeting of Husbands United (a secret society). The guys could not believe it, and immediately voted without a dissenting vote to offer the gentleman in question an honorary membership – assuming he is still with us. Unfortunately, we don’t know who he is. If anyone out there knows, please let me know!
Barry Evans writes about Life in The Villages.
