PLEASE WAIT FOR ASSISTANCE

Mike went to work today – setting up the tax operation, so I opted to make a trip to town and get groceries. I had coupons for Albertson's and decided to go there – located just one block from the new Super Walmart. In my mind it was a bit of a toss-up, you know, because you can get more stuff at Walmart. You can gawk at the Christmas stuff, play with the toys, look at the electronics, choose towels to machine embroider, then get your groceries. Some people don't go there; I'm not one of them.

But, I went to Albertson's. I enjoyed myself, meandering back and forth across the store, sometimes looking for things on my list, sometimes just looking. At 2:30 I began to finish up my shopping. My goal was to spend $80.00 so that I could use my coupon -- $8.00 off on $80.00. The cart was about one-third full and I figured I could lift and carry the entire order of bagged groceries (that's excluding the two gallons of milk and one carton of pop) by myself in one trip. I judged that to be $100.00 worth of groceries, however scary that might be. Arriving at the check-out, I was third in line. One of the cashiers called, "Three's a crowd," so an available checker approached me and said, "May I help you over here?" "Over here" proved to be the self-check station. (Déjà vu. This same scenario happened to Mike and me sometime back.)

Well, it's awkward, you know. There I was standing next to the checker as she scans my groceries, and it feels like she's doing my job. But – I have $100.00 worth of groceries, including fresh produce, and I would never choose to use self-check under these circumstances. A few error screens pop up along the way, and I begin to be grateful I'm not trying to check myself. "Here," I say to the clerk as she finishes, "these are the coupons I brought." She deducts those off my order. "Finish and Pay," says the screen. One swipe of my credit card is not enough. I have to do it again. It appears to go through – in fact, the computer screen says so, but there's no receipt. It becomes obvious that the computer has frozen up.

"Please wait for assistance," says that pleasant, feminine, automated voice.

"I'm so sorry this happened," says the clerk, "but I have to get my supervisor. She's busy right now, but she will come and verify the screen, then she'll go upstairs to verify that your payment went through. I just hate when this happens. My shift is ending and I have to leave now. Again – I'm sorry. I hope you weren't in a hurry. Good-bye." Oh great! She could go, but I had to stay there. "Please wait for assistance," says the automated voice again. As I stood there by myself, Walmart began to look better to me. "If these people do not offer me a significant discount on this order or my next order," I think to myself, "my loyalty to them is over."

So, there I stood. "Please wait for assistance," says the computer again. After about five minutes the supervisor showed up, verified that the check-out had failed, verified that my payment had not gone through, and took me to a regular check station where she re-ran my entire order. While that was happening, another employee, perhaps the in-store Starbuck's barista, approached me. "You've been here a long time," she says. "Can I get you . . . " and I made a selection from the drinks she listed off. "There goes any hope of a grocery discount," I think.

Amazingly, my final total ended up the same as it had previously -- $89.90. (I reminded the supervisor of my coupons.) I ran my card and got my receipt. "Can Todd help you out?" asks the supervisor. "That way you won't have to bring the cart back – or anything," she finishes rather lamely.

"Sure," I accepted with some trepidation. Todd is a great kid from the "help the handicapped" employment agency. He does not get in a hurry – and the cart return was right next to my car.

It was 3:15. I figure check-out had taken me at least half an hour. KW