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THE RANT : Self-Checkout Tills Can STFU

The woman who voices the self-service checkouts is a condescending bitch.

Her incessant moaning is reminiscent of a scathing mother-in-law reminding you of all your flaws. At any given moment in the checkout procedure, she wants to reduce you to tears.

She begins her psychological attack on your mental health with a comment that makes you instantly feel inferior. “Place your first item in the bagging area.”

As you begin to scan your items she evolves into a snobby, unreasonable wench who clearly disagrees with alcohol consumption and judges you for purchasing reduced items.

Scanning any six-pack of beers involves being treated like a child, as she bellows out: “Approval needed.” She tell-tales on you – beckoning an I.D. check from a zombiefied checkout supervisor, who makes you feel ridiculous for even contemplating purchasing booze in the first place.

They take around five minutes to turn up to your checkout machine, look you up and down, assess your driving license, smirk at your old haircut, prod their chubby fingers on the screen and give the weakest nod known to man to approve your purchase. It drives you to drink.

Furthermore, as someone who likes to take advantage of the 8.55pm reduced item super-sale, the self-checkout lady, whom I will nickname Patricia the Patroniser, makes it as difficult as possible to scan reduction barcodes.

A pint of milk reduced to 27p still scans as £1.09 and the Ginsters cornish pasty that you don’t really want but feel compelled to purchase because, sod it! it’s 42p, somehow comes up as £1.59. Patricia doesn’t want to give you a bargain. She wants you to pay, in hard-earned pennies (or notes).

Patricia’s psychotic nagging includes the often repetitive “Unexpected item in bagging area”, which yet again halts the whole process of purchasing any thing you actually want.

At the end of the ordeal she bluntly demands you to “Select your payment type”, before rudely interrupting you with: “Do you have a Nectar card?”

Of course I don’t have a pissing Nectar card. Stop hassling me.

Three seconds later. “Have you swiped your Nectar card?” Her belittling upward inflections make you want to pull her plug.

Furthermore, if you take longer than two seconds to choose your payment method, she further scowls at you with: “Insert cash or touch (patronising pause)… pay.. with.. card.”

The trick here is to never pay by cash. She will give you change all in one-pence coins just to piss you off further. “Please take your change,” she sneers.

Instructing every shopper as if they were blindfolded, she then states the obvious by inputting: “Notes are dispensed below the scanner.” No shit, Patrish.

Finally, to finish off leaving you feeling stressed, depressed and wishing you had gone to the acne-ridden teenager on the checkouts, she bids you a patronising farewell.

“Thank you for using Sainsbury’s self-checkout.”

F**K OFF.

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