100 YEARS OLD AND STILL CHECKING OUT CHECK-OUTS...

POPPING into Tesco the other evening for a quick shop before catching my train home, I needed all my negotiating skills to escape the check-out undamaged.

I went to my usual self check-out, where over the years I have developed a good and close relationship with the scanning machine. This time however instead of her usual, “How nice to see you, Mr Beachcomber. What are you purchasing today? No unexpected items, I hope,” she was stubbornly silent as I scanned my purchases.

Even when I placed something untoward in the bagging area, she said nothing. And putting items in the righthand bagging area instead of the one on the left had no effect either.

I tried pausing, expecting to hear her prompt to scan an item or press “Finish and Pay” but she just waited. “Is something wrong?” I asked. No response. “Aren’t you talking to me? Was it something I bought?” I whispered. No response. Finally, I scanned my last item, followed by my Club Card and that was when she emitted a sound at last.

It is difficult finding the right word for the sound but I think ‘snort’ comes close to describing the noise.

“Do you really think you’re entitled to use a loyalty card?” she said icily.

“Why not?” I replied. “I use them everywhere. They sometimes give me vouchers or discounts.”

“Yes,” she snarled, “you use them everywhere. Do you call that loyalty? You’ve been shopping at Waitrose, haven’t you? Am I not good enough for you any more?” She started sobbing.

“Oh for goodness’ sake,” I said, “I only use the Waitrose card because of the free coffee.”

“That’s exactly it,” she said. “One free coffee and you’re any machine’s. I remember a few years ago when you had that dalliance with Sainsbury’s, even without a free coffee. Now it’s Waitrose and that’s just too much. It’s over between us. Now take your shopping and leave.”

“Please don’t react that way,” I said. “You know you mean more to me than any other self check-out machine. I was so right to choose you all those years ago. Sainsbury’s have stopped talking about unexpected items in the bagging area and those Waitrose machines are so impatient. I can’t even stop to think before they tell me to scan an item or press Finish and Pay. They make me so nervous. I scan something before they can say, ‘Oh, get on with it. I haven’t got all day, you know.’ I only put up with it for the free coffee. There’s nothing else. You’re the only machine I want to tell me about unexpected items in my bagging area.”

“Do you really mean that?” she asked, as a set of windscreen wipers brushed the tears from her screen.

“Of course I do,” I said tenderly. “I’ll give up shopping at Sainsbury’s and Waitrose if it makes you feel so bad. Even if they are closer than Tesco. Now say those words and everything will be all right again.”

She giggled at last and whispered “Unexpected item in the bagging area.” I tenderly kissed the screen, paid for my goods and left the store.