My partner, Jake, and I have shared many years together. Throughout our time as a couple, he’s posed countless questions—some trivial, like “Scented or unscented?” and others more profound, such as “Star Wars or Star Trek?” However, none left me more apprehensive than the one he asked recently while we were grocery shopping: “Should we try the self-checkout?”
We’ve known each other since childhood, have been together for 19 years, and have been married for almost 17. We’ve welcomed three kids into our lives and navigated through numerous challenges, including military deployments, home renovations, ice storms, and even Hurricane Ivan. But could we successfully tackle the self-checkout together? My past experiences made me question that.
Years ago, the first time I used a self-checkout, I was faced with a bag of Red Delicious apples. “Please move your Red…Delicious…apples to the bag,” the machine intoned, while I nervously glanced around, worried it might announce all my purchases. I felt too humiliated to leave but equally embarrassed to scan my box of Lucky Charms. I feared the machine might break its robotic demeanor and call out my choices: “Move your fourth box of artificially flavored frozen waffles to the bag.”
Fortunately, the machine only names produce items. The rest are identified by price, which is equally awkward. When something pricey is scanned, heads turn, and you can feel the judgment of those around you.
The experience is riddled with moments of anxiety, punctuated by the dreaded “Please wait for assistance,” which comes after every few items. When a real cashier approaches, you can sense their thoughts: “So, we’re not good enough for you? You think you can handle that on your own?”
Nothing about self-checkout is easy, yet Jake wanted to tempt fate by attempting it together. Was this a strange test of our marriage? I thought I’d already passed that when we paddled a double kayak without capsizing.
He began unloading our cart, seemingly oblivious to the chaos that would ensue in the self-checkout lane. Was he overly confident in our marriage, or did he trust that the universe often favors him? He started sending items down the ramp with little regard for my ability to keep up.
Bagging at the self-checkout is more complex than it appears. The scales are incredibly sensitive. If you merely place an item on the scale and quickly move it away, the machine knows. And for lighter items, like a pack of tissues, you have to throw them into the bag with a certain force for the scale to register their weight. Mess this up, and the flashing SOS light signals for assistance.
As Jake continued to send items down, I felt the heat rising. It was like a scene out of a comedy where I was racing against the clock with the machine about to call for help. Meanwhile, he was in his zone, calmly sending boxes of cereal without a clue of my increasing frustration. I was juggling bags and items that had already been scanned, creating a precarious tower of groceries.
While I felt like the last pin in a bowling alley, Jake clicked “Finish and Pay” with ease. As we walked to the car, he grinned at me and said, “Well, that went pretty well, right?” And in that moment, I realized maybe his luck comes from having me at the bottom of the ramp, waiting to catch everything he throws my way.
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In summary, the self-checkout experience can be a true test of a relationship, revealing how well partners navigate challenges together. While it may seem trivial, it’s a reminder that teamwork and understanding can help couples thrive in even the most unconventional situations.