Earlier today I went grocery shopping. Being a Saturday, I was hoping that my bad luck streak from the rest of the week (read work-related blues) would have abated, but I was wrong.
The Saturday before the first of every month can be easier on the nerves at a supermarket, because people who are paid once a month have exhausted their funds stocking up on things weeks ago. I chose the late morning to go as my last stop before home, since I planned to buy mostly frozen food.
I managed to stock up on vegetables, which are supposedly better for me than canned. Besides the brick varieties, I also got microwave steam choices in bags. Eighteen items in all.
Then I grabbed a small box of Yodels.
Off to the self-checkout I went, confidently drawing out my generic shopping bag (my state being a plastic bag ban participant) and beginning my purchase experience. First, I scanned my savings card from my keychain (yes, I keep those instead of an app), then began scanning my bricks of frozen veggies, as a friendly female voice announced the financial damages. The bar codes are in the same place on all the boxes, so I took two boxes in hand, scanned one and bagged it while holding the other.
That’s where my trouble began. The cameras stationed at every kiosk are programmed to watch what is placed in the bags, and my camera was ready to train its full attention on me because I had a box of frozen veggies in my right hand near the bag, which I had not yet scanned, while bagging the one I just scanned with my left hand.
The kiosk shut down. Moments later, a helpful monitor came by and overrode the error with a crooked smile that says she has been through this more than she’d care to mention. I continued, but kept my other hand free so as not to look like a potential miscreant.
Finally I reached the moment in which I was ready to pay for my purchases. Breaking out my credit card, I followed the prompt to slide the magnetic strip through the device. An error message then appeared, saying I needed to insert the card to scan the chip. With the resignation of “how much more wrong can this transaction go” in my head, I chipped, received the confirmation, removed my card. . . .and the kiosk produced another error message.
Note to self and everybody: never, EVER, ask what more can go wrong, because Murphy (the angel whose law has become his to oversee in the afterlife) will hear you and make something else happen to wreck your day.
A nice fellow came by this time and attempted to fix the problem by scanning his all-access-I’m-somebody card, and the kiosk came back to life as if I hadn’t paid. He asked if a receipt printed out, and I said no. It hadn’t. He then brings over the floor manager, and we have a chat about how much the bill was and what I had used to pay. Thank goodness I didn’t use cash! The lady manager sets off to review the activity at my kiosk, and returns to verify my personal information which was accessible to her–my phone numbers, name of my first grade teacher, blood type–and she reveals that no activity was posted since I last visited after the holiday earlier in the month. She suggested we go to another kiosk and repeat the entire transaction again.
Now the resignation in my soul is telling me that I will have defrosted vegetables by the time I get home, but being a good citizen, we go to another kiosk and begin the process of scanning everything again. The floor manager helps, even pausing my scanning to remind me not to accidentally cover up the bar code when I hold the items. I suddenly feel like I should be in the tight quarters of the store’s security interrogation room, explaining myself to some business suited investigators who hold the power to put me in the slammer over a $1.99 box of frozen spinach. And I’ve done nothing wrong, nor have they implied that I have. It’s the inconvenience and the spotlight being on me that makes it such an issue.
The total comes out exactly the same. I chip, the receipt prints out, and the manager says they will double check everything, but I should also see if two charges come up on the credit card when I get home.
Sure enough, after I quickly stored my freezer full of properly double-scanned and paid for veggies, I found two pending charges for the same amount on my credit card.
Dutifully I called up the issuer. Since the charges are pending, it may be five days before the transaction is finalized. By then the store will have found it and fixed it, or I can dispute the charge. This means a few days of the stress meter in my life on a slight upward tilt as I wait for the results of this debacle.
Oh, and my Yodels were melted together when I got them home.
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