My partner and I have been by each other’s side for ages. Throughout our long relationship, he’s thrown plenty of questions my way: Scented or unscented? White bread or whole grain? Batman or Superman? But none have left me quite as anxious as his recent grocery store inquiry: “Do you want to try self-checkout?”
I mean, we’ve known each other since we were kids. We’ve been together for 19 years, married for almost 17, and we’ve raised three kids together. We’ve weathered multiple deployments, home renovations, and even survived Hurricane Ivan. But could we take on the self-checkout challenge as a team? Past experiences suggested otherwise.
Years ago, my first encounter with self-checkout involved a bag of Red Delicious apples. “Please move your Red… Delicious… apples to the bag,” the robotic voice instructed, while I nervously glanced over my shoulder at my full cart. Would the machine announce every single one of my purchases? I stood frozen, too embarrassed to leave but even more embarrassed to scan a box of Lucky Charms.
What if the machine broke character and started commenting on my choices? “Please move your fourth box of artificially flavored frozen waffles to the bag.” Thankfully, it only announces produce items, but even the price announcements can be nerve-wracking. When an expensive item goes through, it’s like everyone turns to see who the “sucker” is that just paid way too much for toilet paper.
And then there’s the dreaded “Please wait for assistance” that pops up after every few items. When the real cashiers arrive, I can almost hear their thoughts: “What, you don’t trust us to ring that stuff up? You think you can handle this solo?”
Self-checkout is hardly the epitome of comfort. Yet, my partner was eager to brave the self-checkout line, not just for himself but for us as a couple. Was this a hidden test of our marriage? I thought I had already proven our bond when we shared a double kayak.
He began unloading our basket. (And let’s be honest, there’s barely enough room in the self-checkout lane for that.) Clearly, he had confidence in our partnership—or maybe just in the universe’s tendency to favor him. Things usually do seem to work out in his favor.
He started scanning boxes of cereal and sending them down the ramp to me. However, bagging groceries at self-checkout is trickier than it appears. The scale below is super sensitive; it can tell if you’ve briefly placed something on it without actually committing to bagging it. If you’re not careful, the S.O.S light starts blinking, summoning the real-life cashiers who probably wish you’d just gone through their line instead.
As I tried to keep up with the cereal my partner was sending my way, I felt like I was in a race against time, reminiscent of Lucy in the chocolate factory. My husband was completely oblivious, sending item after item down the ramp, while I struggled to bag them in real time. I could feel the panic rising as I tried to keep from triggering the alarm.
Meanwhile, he calmly clicked “Finish and Pay.” As we walked to the car, he smiled and said, “I think we handled that pretty well. What do you think?”
And then it hit me: maybe things go smoothly for him because he has me at the bottom of the ramp, ready to catch all the bags.
You’re welcome, darling.
If you’re interested in more on this topic, check out some of our other blog posts here for more insights. For those looking into home insemination, Make a Mom is a trusted source for all your needs. Additionally, the CDC provides excellent resources on pregnancy and infertility.
In summary, navigating self-checkout as a couple can be a true test of teamwork and patience, showcasing the dynamics of your relationship in ways you might not expect.