Susan's Scribblings the Blog

A writer from the Philadelphia area shares the week online.
Susan's Scribblings the Blog
  • Who the Heck is Kayewer?
  • Tag: writing

    • Storm’s A’comin’

      Posted at 3:22 pm by kayewer, on August 29, 2026

      On a classic episode of The Golden Girls (but really, which episodes are not classics on that show), preparations were underway for a hurricane a’comin’. They noted that it’s a given for a major storm to be designated as “a’comin’,” and in fact is the only time you hear the phrase.

      I saw a nasty frontal system approaching one evening this past week while on my commute home. Sometimes the major activity naturally draws your attention, and though we have been getting our share of them this year, this one stood out. The clouds in this approaching menace were gigantic, low-slung and ominous, and we had already experienced a deluge of a downpour earlier in the day, punctuated by sheets of heavy rain. Our office building even had a power fluctuation which rattled our nerves. By the time I had left, I was walking on amazingly dry streets and sidewalks. The heat had cooked the entirety of the rainwater away.

      Flash flooding from the coming storm was a near certainty with such a powerful meteorological battlefront on the march. All of the weather experts were pinging cellphones like a symphony all afternoon. I had hoped to stop for fuel and to pick up something from the pharmacy, but decided to head straight home.

      The area became preternaturally dark shortly after I got inside and locked the doors. Fortunately the downpour was not too intense, and a few other spots received the brunt of the activity. Some college freshmen who had just moved into their dorms found floodwaters creeping into their spaces, and a town’s vehicles in low areas ended up under a few feet of water. We were unscathed.

      The accuracy of weather predictions these days is amazing, but it can’t account for the movements nature randomly sends our way. This is why it’s better to not take a risk when unpredictable weather comes and to stay put when its arrival is imminent. Or seek higher ground as appropriate.

      As to why I brought up this subject, shortly after this storm passed I saw video of the mudslides and flash flooding in Nepal which has claimed structures and lives (at last count, about 670, with thousands of locals and visitors missing). There was no time in this instance to plan ahead, as glacial calving (immense melted ice pieces separating from the main structure) are to blame, happened in an instant and with no warning. Climate change may play a role, as it can with many of our abnormal weather patterns.

      When I was heading home, I was driving seemingly toward what I should have been trying to escape. The horizon was boiling with clouds seeming to emerge from midnight itself (at six in the evening), with sunlight nowhere in sight. A force of nature not to be messed with.

      Winter is approaching, and with a predicted super El Nino this year, we will need to be vigilant when weather forecasts appear. It doesn’t appear to be getting any easier, and extreme weather will become part of our lives more and more. As we stand in its path, all we can do is prepare for what’s a’comin’ and hope for the best.

      Next weekend is a holiday with three days off. I hope to have a great story to tell that’s not about the weather.

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      Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged family, life, nature, weather, writing
    • What a Hoser

      Posted at 6:12 pm by kayewer, on July 4, 2026

      Everybody has little quirks that can be annoyingly difficult or impossible to overcome. People can’t figure out how to peel hard boiled eggs without wrecking the surface (hint: get under the membrane by starting at the blunt end). Folks chronically forget to fill the gas tank until their vehicle sputters to a halt (and it’s usually on a holiday when prices are jacked up). Others misplace their car keys. We get it, and we sigh and muddle our way through such obstacles.

      Another such roadblock to a smooth life is inanimate objects, whether it’s never being able to flick a lighter to life, keep a shoelace tied, or getting your electronic pass read at the bridge or parking garage. Daily progress comes to a complete stop when something doesn’t work the way it should. Hollywood even wastes footage because of malfunctioning props, so we’re all subject to it.

      Lately I have been having a war of epic stature with garden hoses.

      The hoses my parents had did finally surrender to old age, and I needed to replace them, but luck is not on my side. I have gone through about a dozen of these outdoor must-have contraptions, and for the life of me I cannot get them to function.

      When I saw an ad for a convenient hose which weighed next to nothing and expanded and shrank on its own, I thought it must be the holy (or hosey) grail of water delivery devices. The legacy variety kinks up, never stores easily, handles in the most unwieldy fashion, picks up dirt and debris as it’s dragged from the faucet to whatever you will be watering, and is never the right size for the yard in which it’s being used.

      Something light in weight that wouldn’t kink seemed a godsend. So I bought one.

      Turns out the thing is really an elongated bladder wrapped by a woven cover. Sure, it carries easily and can drape around its holder in half the time of the stiff and stubborn original. However, while it’s expanding it can ruin your landscaping and mow down your shrubbery and flowers. It requires some finagling to figure out how many washers the female coupling needs inside the screw to avoid getting showered with water. No matter what I’ve done, they always leaked. I always got wet.

      They are also sensitive and prone to bursting internally, which effectively ends their lifespan. One lasted eight months, and the other about three. I moved to a new-fangled flat product still guaranteed not to kink, but it didn’t make it through two seasons. So, back to the permanently curled old standby for my next attempt.

      I managed to hook up the hose (righty loosey, lefty tighty), turned it on, and got a free shower.

      Dragged the curly little darling out of the leaking firing line, along the length of the driveway to straighten it out, then moved toward my target for the morning: the birdbath, to give the poor avian world some fresh cool water during a heatwave with temperatures over 100 degrees. I turned on the nozzle and got nothing.

      The gosh-darned thing had kinked (and I didn’t actually say gosh-darned).

      Went back to unkink the hose, which usually looks something like that rope exercise one does in the gym to strengthen the upper arms and turn them into biceps which could feed a family of four zombies. Only this model of hose doesn’t undulate at all. I had to unwind it like an anaconda fresh out of the permafrost.

      Finally, I managed to turn on the nozzle and get a genuine jet of water to wash out the birdbath and fill it with fresh water. Mission accomplished. Sort of. Still needed to put the hose back to someplace it had never been before.

      A fifty-foot hose with the attitude of a snake is a son of a gun to wrestle into any semblance of order. My hose caddy is an F-shaped device on which one supposedly can wind the entire length of hose around and have the end result look like it did when purchased from the hardware store. Truth is it looks more like the cat got to the anaconda. Each coil is a different size, but when you’ve had this experience with hoses you know, like Kenny Rogers said, when to fold. The thing is on one place, and that’s that.

      This may be my cross to bear for a few years, having bought the gold standard of a product which has “always worked” just the way it is. Or rather we have grown to accept its flaws and go into battle knowing the outcome won’t be pretty.

      Just pretty wet.

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      Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged adventure, gardening, humor, life, writing
    • All I Ever Wanted

      Posted at 8:01 pm by kayewer, on June 20, 2026

      I just returned from a week’s vacation, and I can honestly say that it is the first one in which I have truly been able to relax.

      The average vacation is not one hundred percent leisure and endless carefree hours (especially for parents), but planning and common sense can make the process easier whether you are a single traveler or a family of four. I started the process early, and from prior experience was able to keep my packing to a minimum (and the return trip even less). My goal was to eat out for dinner, so with my brunch schedule already accounted for, my provisions took up one bag.

      I brought my journal and a crochet project, along with my writing tools. My amusement came mostly from where I was staying, walking and enjoying the various joys of a different place after a winter of unmelting piles of snow.

      I had towels and sheets I keep for just the vacation, which took up one bag. My carry-on bag was already outfitted with my basic flip-flops, sun hat, and various swim gear, and I added daily clothes on top. In the end I only needed to make three trips from the car, and it took me about twenty minutes to unpack and set up.

      What truly surprised me was how well I slept. Without the pending knell of the alarm to answer to, I found restorative rest every morning, which was a prescription no doctor can truly offer if the mind and body are unwilling. Even though the room was as light as mine at home is dark, and sounds unfamiliar to me were easily heard, I found that this past week was helpful beyond the cost of the week. I hadn’t truly realized how the weeks of work and driving (which increased when I was asked to return to the office in February at the height of the brutal winter) had enervated my spirit.

      Now that I’m back home and anticipating the catching up I will need to do (including an amazing amount of laundry in spite of the little I took with me), I realize that such respites are even more necessary at my age, and I will be sure to find another week of rest this year. Whether I stay home or go elsewhere, I know that I owe myself a break from the ordinary.

      Happy summer everybody.

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      Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged family, life, travel, vacation, writing
    • Hybridized

      Posted at 3:05 pm by kayewer, on April 25, 2026

      Just when I was starting to truly feel comfortable working from home and had figured that, after nearly six years of it, I would not be going back to the office, I was called back to the office. We are working under a hybrid schedule a few days a week, and then we also work from home.

      This meant much more than just readjusting to the workplace environment. There was now the issue of resuming expenses for transportation in terms of bridge tolls, gas and parking. Meal planning is another animal altogether, and a topic for another time.

      I’m using a different bridge to get to work now, and I fill my tank more frequently. The mileage didn’t change much (about 11 miles), but now I know my car won’t last me as far into retirement. The major highways are brutal proving grounds for motorists, where speed limits are posted but are actually based on a mass-approved code of conduct which is considerably higher. In this world, everybody stays in their space. One doesn’t tailgate too close or lag too far behind. Somebody zooming past and crossing three lanes at 90 is speeding, and nobody likes that.

      At least the parking is subsidized, and of my three location choices I may have made the wisest one. First, it’s a covered garage and not an open parking lot (I avoid needing to scrape ice or remove snow, which was a plus during the extreme weather). Second, it’s a short but much-needed walk. Third, it’s well-tended and feels safe.

      Over the years, my memories of work and my life (which, let’s face it, are interchangeable) have been based upon where my workspace was located. Let me explain.

      In the early years, I worked in the windowless basement, where our small contact center was among three dark central call-taking departments. We shared space with IT and the mailroom, which still had a huge shredder the size of an industrial washing machine. My next big leap was when call processing was moved to an upper floor, and we received cubicles with orange burlap walls. The nearest window for me was yards away.

      We then moved to a secondary building, and I could push my chair away from my desk, look around the cubicle wall (which was now a neutral grey) and see a window. After that, I transferred to a different building, and the cubicle walls partially hid the windows, but I was against those walls and saw the outside world readily.

      At last, I was sent to an office in which I had a large cubicle with several windows directly behind me. I saw sunlight and approaching rain with equal joy. Then that building was shut down in 2020, and we began remote work from home.

      Now I have a large cubicle again, but the windows are steps away for those of us in the inner circle. The managers have the window offices, which is fair.

      However, the building isn’t filled with the activity of six years ago. In fact, if there are 30 people on my floor, I think we have a crowd. The last day in the building each week can almost always be mistaken for a Friday, yet there is still work from home to do. It’s an effort to reach what will be the new normal, but it’s good to have other human beings nearby again. When working at home feels like being a caretaker in a graveyard, with the other empty homes on the block silent as tombstones, it helps to know there is a journey which will end with something resembling what we used to know.

      I don’t speed to get there, but I anticipate it every time.

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      Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged fiction, life, mental-health, travel, writing
    • All You Can Enjoy

      Posted at 9:28 pm by kayewer, on April 11, 2026

      Today was a girls’ day out, and I spent an enjoyable day with two long-time friends at a huge smorgasbord and gift shop. Some of it I spent eating, a lot of it sharing conversation, and a little shrinking my paycheck funds. This is the kind of outing that is becoming rare, but we find time to spend with each other whenever possible, and this was one of the nicest Saturdays this year.

      The three of us arrived in time to have an early pre-dinner packed with everything an empty stomach could wish for. Utensils are one set per person, but plates are dutifully taken away as we went to get fresh ones and fill up with as much food as we could hold. None of us had eaten so much before, being seniors and watching our waistlines as they grow in spite of dieting.

      I started reasonably enough with seafood: salmon served at a cooking station, followed by helpings from hot trays brimming with fried shrimp, cod, crabmeat stuffed fish and plenty of sides. The next plate was piled with vegetables, including broccoli, peas, Brussels sprouts, carrots, mushrooms and mixed beans. The one thing I avoided was salad, since I ate salads all week. Plate three included chicken tenders, baked potato, crab cakes and more sides. Finally, the meal ended with plentiful desserts of key lime and apple pie, chocolate cake and specialty puddings.

      Then we shopped. The gift shop is the size of a department store emporium and populated with collectibles and local crafts. We each have a favorite artist, and we grabbed a cart to take a tour around the building and choose our bounty to take home. I looked at wind chimes and found the pricing a bit steep, so I made a few choices of my favorite collectibles, and my companions narrowed their selections down to some much-desired items. By the time we left, we had hands filled with bags (and one large box for an oversized collectible that had no bag to fit in).

      The best part of the outing was the camaraderie and conversation, which I’ve lacked for most of the past three months. Bad weather and my return to the office have upended my life this winter, but we were able to make time at last to spend together, and the April weather didn’t make it difficult. The drive was calm, the crowds reasonable, and the overall experience was pleasant.

      It’s nice for once to not have a negative thing to say, and we should find ways to bring such joy into our lives as we move from a brutal winter into a (so far) promising spring. Fill your plates with happiness, let your tummies gurgle with delight and your soul sing from the enlightenment of interactions with others.

      And it’s okay to burp.

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      Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged family, food, life, travel, writing
    • Hearts and Flowers

      Posted at 5:03 pm by kayewer, on February 14, 2026

      Today is Valentine’s Day. For me, it’s a Saturday like any other. I’m not going to complain about being single, because that got old a long time ago and accomplishes nothing. What I will do is be pragmatic about what this holiday means for not just me, but for a variety of people.

      In the good old days when I took a train to work, I would see men going home on the 5:00 express with balloons and roses in their hands. Sometimes they seemed happy about it. Sometimes it was difficult to read their emotions. They did make the effort, and I imagined the women they went home to and the joy that came with the simple act of remembering the love sparked between them.

      On the other hand, I just read earlier today about a man who, upon hearing a random stranger’s compliment about how pretty his girlfriend was, went home and argued with her about it, and ended up breaking her eye socket.

      Why this particular holiday has turned into such a polarizing event is unclear. One thing is certain, and it’s that love and interpersonal relationships are not what they used to be.

      Once upon a time, love was simple. One person found the presence of another to be a thrill beyond measure. They met, they dated, they possibly became close friends or even partners, leading to marriage and a future filled with all the things life is made of.

      For some people, there is no simplicity to love. Back when it was an elementary school tradition to decorate shoeboxes with colorful applications and cut a delivery slot in the top for the big day, there were always one or two students whose boxes were empty. It was accepted. No effort was made to fix it. It was a fact of life that some people were simply not eligible for the basics of human compassion.

      Somehow the evolution of women also meant that men grew to resent us somewhat. We went from Rosie the Riveter who stepped up to do abandoned jobs when the men went to war in Europe and the Pacific in World War II, to the perfectly put-together housewife in a dress and apron with dinner, alcohol and a smoke ready for the hard-working man of the house upon his return. Then came the era of “free love” and rebellion, but human sexuality was still mentioned with restraint, followed by the evolution of openness about everything. It seems now that both genders have access to more information (and misinformation) than before.

      And we get stories about the father-to-be playing video games while the mother is in active labor or passing out when they show an interest in the process and realize how much actually comes out from something they, um, put in, nine months ago. And they get annoyed about it and lose respect for women. On the flipside, new mothers dealing with gaming addicts for fathers are not in any better situation.

      So, once a year we turn all the craziness into a box of candy (which is infuriatingly artificial and overpriced) and a bunch of roses forced in greenhouses and wrapped in pink and red for presentation’s sake. And this is supposed to be an expression of love.

      Whatever happened to human values? Respect and dignity are a part of love as much as that frisson coming from being struck by Cupid’s arrow. The poor woman who had her eye rearranged just because somebody said she was pretty is spending the day recovering. Some will endure abusive relationships, while others may be lucky enough to receive an affirmation of what should be true love.

      Why everybody doesn’t deserve such luck is one reason why I’m spending yet another Valentine’s Day alone. Whatever you’re doing, here’s hoping it at least doesn’t leave anything (including a heart) broken.

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      Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged holidays, love, valentine's day, valentines, writing
    • Free Secretary

      Posted at 3:24 pm by kayewer, on February 7, 2026

      I’m old enough to remember when high schools held typing classes. The business education room consisted of row after row of desks with huge and heavy IBM Selectric (R) typewriters perched on top. They were metal and weighed between 30 and 50 pounds, which was a task suited more to the maintenance workers (no IT back then) than the young women like me to try and move around. Even sliding one on the desk was a challenge.

      The machines came in colors such as blue, black and red, with stationary keys embedded in the top and a “golf ball” style interchangeable font device which snapped in place. The design meant no sideways moving parts, which was a miracle of modern technology then. Other typewriters had a platen or cylinder which moved from right to left as the typist completed each line and required a manual shift up to the next line of type and a return to the right. The type ball/golf ball instead moved internally from left to right and positioned itself to imprint the characters on the page as the keys were pressed, striking the inked ribbon in front of the paper inside.

      Anybody from GenX or younger is probably aware that their mouths are stuck open right about now.

      Young high school women trained in basic typing skills, and we had contests for speed and accuracy. Our grade system gave an A to speeds of 60 words per minute or better. Rumor had it that a nearby high school only required 50 words per minute. By the time I was 20, I had graduated to over 90, thanks in no small part to my high school typing class, and the high bar they set.

      So why did we take typing classes? We were anticipating working in administrative roles such as secretaries or clerks, which required typing letters, meeting notes and corporate materials. IBM had cornered three quarters of the business market by the 1980s, so we were graduating with an almost guaranteed skill we could use right away.

      Of course, clerical and secretarial positions in the workplace are not what they used to be. 96 percent of administrative assistants (the modern job title) are still women, but typing has moved from navigating those toddler-weight behemoths to computers one can carry in a hand. Children in elementary school learn basic keyboarding. The role of the woman professionally dressed in a blouse and skirt clicking away is nearly gone.

      Why do I bring this up?

      I was recently tasked at work with taking customer calls to back up a growing queue during severe weather. One of the incoming call options enabled the customer to receive a callback based on their place in the queue, so they wouldn’t need to hold. In the time many people spend what they consider an annoying amount of time on hold, they might have typed 90 words per minute. Or won a round of the latest video game.

      As I was taking one of these incoming callbacks, I received a voice message asking me to identify myself for the person whom I was calling.

      The person’s phone was the secretary, without the front desk, typewriter or keyboard. The device was screening its user’s calls so they could accept or reject me. A few calls came through like that. One even acknowledged my name when relaying the message, which I found slightly creepy.

      All those years of perfecting my typing skills so I could sit at a desk and interact with people, replaced by a digital entity.

      Makes me regret never having bought an IBM typewriter.

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      Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment | Tagged Books, computers, ibm-selectric, life, technology, typing-classes, writing
    • It’s Superb

      Posted at 6:51 pm by kayewer, on January 31, 2026

      The Seattle Seahawks and the New England Patriots (again?) will face off a week from tomorrow in what I jokingly call the Stupor Bowl, but which some people refer to as the “Big Game” or the “Superb Owl” Party. Amazing what moving a letter B from the start of one word to the end of another can do to dance around title copyrights.

      A match of two winning divisional NFL football teams to declare an annual overall champion will kick off in Santa Clara, California for an evening of tackles, men spouting statistics, Bad Bunny trying for the 19th time since 2007 to be the musical guest to top Prince’s halftime show, and corporate advertisements at eight million dollars per 30-second commercial trying to be the topic at every bar and home party in the nation.

      Last year, the Philadelphia Eagles won the championship. It was an exciting game for me, and I normally don’t watch football. Being from within eyesight of the capital of American independence (happy 250th to us this year), of course I sing the fight song and have an official jersey (bought when they won in 2018 to commemorate the victory). Some things you just can’t not bother doing, and when your local team makes the final two, even if you’ve gained a few ounces since you had the shirt made, you hold your breath and squeeze it on.

      Football is one of the American “four horsemen” of the sports apocalypse (the other three being baseball, hockey and basketball). Sports were never my thing, and gym class in school was torture because of it. We played a variety of sports, and in one sixth grade class we tried a casual version of football. I somehow got the ball and ran for a touchdown. To the wrong goalpost.

      The jersey is just fashion, folks.

      Anyway, the intensity with which this frozen final stand of the pro season can’t be denied. The grocery stores are already assembling pyramids of snacks, decking out meat sections teaming with ribs and chicken multi-packs and shuffling around pallets of sports drinks and colas from both of the beverage big two (and if you don’t know them, shame on you). Over the next week leading up to the big broadcast, speculation will be which company ads will be the most popular. Budweiser is a big contender each year with their beautiful Clydesdales often appearing. Occasionally a surprise guest ad will pop up, but the trend these days has been to stick to what people expect and then surprise them with something unexpected. I hear a recent embarrassment on a Coldplay concert Jumbotron may be spoofed in one commercial.

      Will I be watching the whole thing this year? No. Last year was enough to last until next time the Eagles go up to, um, bat?

      A friend and I check in on the scores occasionally when it’s not the Eagles playing. We snack and watch other programming we’ve grown accustomed to viewing when we get together. We let the guys work it out for themselves, and we buy what we normally do, without the influence of advertisers.

      The Pats have an advantage, having won an armload of these matches. If last year’s trend holds, the Seahawks may come out the winners this time. Come Monday, every sports network will buzz with the events of the evening before, and the Monday morning quarterbacks will have their time to cheer or gripe about what went right or wrong. The store pyramids will have been depleted, the hype over like a deflated balloon, and sports fans will turn their eyes toward basketball until baseball returns.

      Have I said much of interest here? Maybe not. However, after last week’s post, I’m relieved to say that the worst of the deadly storm system is in the past, and the near permafrost conditions left behind will be around for weeks and unlikely to be melted or dug out. I look forward to Monday, February 2, when a groundhog will hopefully predict an early spring.

      Spring. Baseball. I’m not a sports person, but I’ll take both right about now.

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      Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged baseball, football, nfl, sports, writing
    • 2025 The Year in Review

      Posted at 3:07 pm by kayewer, on December 27, 2025

      We have finally come to the end of a grueling and unpredictable twelve months. Next year America marks its 250th year as a nation, or semiquincentennial, with July 4 festivities and events filling our lives with a sense of hope and unity. Pragmatically, it should not matter what the populace in the capitol are like, as long as we hold to the values that got us through the other 249 years since the founding fathers signed documentation freeing us to be what we dream to be.

      Part of my dream was to be a regular blogger, which I have done for nearly two and a half decades, including here on WordPress. I haven’t taken a break for some time, posting each week on Saturday afternoons, occasionally adjusting when events in my life necessitated.

      In 2025 I posted articles about a variety of topics from South Korean business lunches, circus peanut snacks and how to properly fold paper around a McDonald’s Snack Wrap, to people who died and weren’t found for years, and word from the impoverished city of Camden that nobody died from violence all summer this past year. We looked at dieting and health, including cortisol and the last people using iron lungs to sustain them after surviving polio.

      I shared stories about crafting, decluttering, preparing tipsy holiday drinks, getting my feet too clean (they got blisters), and surviving being attacked by a sharp vegetable peeler.

      We looked at stadium webcam scandals, bullying, crosswalk etiquette, how to enter one’s name on an online form, the need for penmanship in schools and self-restraint in everyday life.

      With luck, some of what I wrote was enjoyable or useful.

      Now that 2026 is coming, it’s time to reflect inward and decide what the next year will entail. I know that I will probably be returning to the workplace, as my job informed me of it back in October. The target date has been pushed back to nobody knows when, but I will do what I have always done: carry on.

      The new year offers chances to make changes or new decisions, and I have quite a few coming up. Let’s hope the course is a smooth one for us all. We deserve it.

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      Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged Books, faith, family, life, writing
    • Next Available

      Posted at 4:32 pm by kayewer, on November 8, 2025

      People generally do not like to wait in line, yet many of our in-person experiences mandate doing just that. Banks and airports supply quaint rope mazes to make the queue orderly, and theme parks go out of their way to make the wait for an attraction tolerable by winding visitors through well-decorated scenic stand-and-shuffle routes. With the emergence of other checkout methods, we may not have eliminated the lines, but we have given ourselves a choice of what kind of line in which we wish to wait.

      Some places have cashiers and self-checkout, yet the lines at both can be just as dense. The DIY culture doesn’t make the process any faster, because even if the method of purchasing your things has been established, sometimes the procedure is changed from the last time you visited. For folks who like to set their minds on autopilot and go through the motions (click here, click there, answer yes, answer no), one little alteration in the order of checkout on the part of the programmers of these machines can mean the difference between getting change in coins and rounding up by contributing to a charity (or worse, missing your chance to use your cash back bonus).

      I recently visited a department store which I had not been to for several months. I needed to restock on some things (as in clothing in which to be seen in public), and when I stepped inside I found that an entire section of one department had been removed and replaced with a checkout zone the size of the men’s toiletry section. In one corner was the entrance to the customer line or queue, and along its outer wall opposite the cashiers, whose backs were facing it, was a newfangled self-checkout section of three kiosks. By each station was a stack of handled paper bags (no plastic bags in my state), a touchscreen terminal, and a slot for inserting clothes hangers.

      The queue was already at the entrance of the “cattle chute,” so I decided to take my chances with handling the new self checkout experience myself. Nobody around me was brave enough to make the attempt, so I also burdened myself with setting a good example.

      The process started off simply enough; discard a hanger, scan the barcode, place the item in the bagging area. Which was actually the counter. However, when it came time to pay, no instructions appeared. It took me a minute or so to realize that I had to touch the screen for the department store’s credit card or somebody else’s card (no cash) before the POS terminal would bother to read my card and take my future income away. Imagine that: a terminal that doesn’t register a swipe. At least I know I wasn’t double charged, though if I had, there did not appear to be somebody watching over the terminals to help if there was a problem. This is not only self-checkout, but fix it yourself or go back to college math class.

      I walked away with a bagful of supplies and a receipt. As I continued to shop, I noticed that not every place in the store had gone this new route, but some familiar checkout desks were conspicuously missing, replaced by the three cashier and three kiosk garden of retail delights near the exit.

      After leaving the store, I felt a mixture of nostalgia for the old days and a sense of relief that I didn’t have a meltdown while buying my own things. I don’t even know if all the stores in the chain have the new technology, but as I left the kiosk I did notice that another shopper bravely stepped up to give it a try.

      She had stood in the middle of the bustle, without even getting in a line. Imagine that.

      This may be the start of something better, though introducing it just before the holiday crunch may be premature, I will probably return for more shopping.

      And I’ll know what I’m doing. Spending the same money without the “have a nice day” unless I want to wait in line for it.

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      Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged self-checkout, shopping, writing
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