​The Express Line

It is a funny thing the “Express Line,” well not really, especially when you’re in a hurry and the old lady in front of you just has a “few” things.  I understand the theory behind the Express line; you get your bread, milk and toilet paper, the cashier rings you through, packs the bag in the order scanned, and you get out in five minutes or less, with flat bread and damp toilet paper.

I’m not sure how the number of items was determined; perhaps an Express Line sub-committee in Washington weighs various facts and figures, can comes up with a number. I find twelve items or less to be the standard, in most places.  Of course, that signage, has the same impact as a 25-mph sign in a neighborhood, none. How is it that grandma won’t go one-mile-an-hour over the speed limit when I’m behind her on E. Bruceton, by will invoke the 10-mph over rule, when she is in front of me in the express line?

A quick run for milk, Raisin Brand and an ice cream treat, gets trapped behind a full-fledged order; Depends, several cans cat food, cat litter, lettuce, socks, Boost, peanut butter, toilet paper, tomato soup, tomato sauce, potato salad, crossword puzzle book, People Magazine, stool softener, aspirin, Sprite, National Enquirer Tums, toothpaste, toothbrush, and Efferdent. Hey, I was a pissed as my Klondikes were melting.  

My other favorite express guest, the quantity buyer; I understand you like oatmeal, but 25 boxes of the same item, do not count as one item.  However, buying a bunch of bananas is okay, after all they are bunched together, hence the term.  This leads to some philosophical thought. What if I was to by 26 apples?  If I put them in three bags, that would be okay, but if I put them through individually, I am using poor express line edict. What about one case of pop, verses 15 individual cans? How about “Buy One, Get One Free?” One item or two?

This tension is why I now avoid the Express Line at all costs. All I want is a drink, maybe a candy bar, or a few necessities the wife has requested. Who needs the stress? That’s why I now use that fine oiled machine called, “Self-Checkout.”