U-Scan't

It was not an engineer who designed the horrid U-Scan machines that you see everywhere. It was a mentally challenged sloth who must have been dropped by its sloth mother a lot when it was young.

I really don't mind these machines if they're actually quick and the retarded sloth's cousin Billy Bob isn't manning the attendant's station. At the Smith's on 9th and 9th there's an attendant who talks (correction: bellows) at customers like they're 5-year-olds.

"Sir...sir...sir! What are you trying to do? No no NO! You can't put your credit card until you've scanned everything."
"Ma'am...ma'am...ma'am...hey! There is no bar code on the produce."

Then there's the machine that must be running Microsoft software, because it's running slower than a 90-year-old lady in an '88 Buick Century.

"Please scan your Fresh Values card."
Swipe card, wait five minutes.
"Welcome valued customer. Please scan your items, slide them across the yellow pad, then place them in the bag."
Scan items, wait five minutes between each item. Then wait for machine to say...
"Please remove the last item."
Remove the last item, wait five minutes for the sloth's cousin Billy Bob to wake up and clear it on his computer.

Di admitted to me that she'd never been embarrassed by my behavior until an incident at Harmon's when I started cussing at the U-Scan machine. I admit, I was out of control. But the @#%&ing machine had its head so far up its !$@%ing ass that it really needed to be degraded. And there is no shame in degrading a machine.