My initial experience at grocery shopping was at the Calvertville Store operated at the time by the Crites family. "Tell us what you want, we will get it, bag it and carry it to your car," was their motto.
Today, I was flummoxed at Mega Grocery as I tried to use the self-checkout service. BW is the grocery shopper in our house except on rare occasion when I am dispatched with a short list of must-have items while she is engaged in other activities.
On rare occasions we have traversed the hills and dales of Mega or Big-Mart and when we reach the checkout she swipes the card, scans the reward card, slaps the point card on the surface, shows a picture of her dog when she was growing up, secretly reveals what she weighs and her age, reveals the name of her first car date feller to gain access to the technological world of grocery shopping today. I stand in amazement at her deftness.
Today, I gallantly said I would stop at Mega and get one item -- a gallon of milk. Of course it and other frequently needed items are hidden back in the corner of the store, over by the cow pasture, through the undeveloped part of town, in a Wells Fargo Stagecoach and guarded by John Darm.
I donned my hiking shoes, grabbed my walking stick, slipped on my Indiana Jones Fedora and went in search of milk. Using an Indiana Jones map from the back of a National Geographic magazine, I found it. Afterwards I strode confidently to the exit area. It is not nice to use the term checkout in the presence of Geezers. There are negative connotations to that word.
I tried valiantly to complete the necessary steps to purchase. First, I checked myself out and reported to the clerk that I thought I was good for a man my age. Her smooth forehead changed to corduroy as she said, "What?" I replied, "The sign says self-checkout." She never got it. Young people.
I swiped my card. You must know that swipe means something else to a geezer such as me. Then I tried to scan my rewards card. Then I scanned the milk container and it would not let me go. I was told in a loud machine voice, "Scan your card." I already did that. I did it again. "Scan your rewards card." I did that and punched the screen and waited. Nothing. "Please scan your card." I turned to the clerk and plaintively queried, "Will you please help me?" She graciously did and then patronizingly patted my arm and said, "There, there. It will be alright." I slunk out of the store like Bill Belichick carrying a deflated football.
I have tried to catch up with technology but it is like the horizon. I never get there. It runs like Tom Brady to the locker room with a deflated football after the Colts game. It is tough to live beyond your knowledge of current technology. It makes me feel so unnecessary.
Larry Vandeventer grew up North of Calvertville and Graduated from Worthington High School and Indiana State. Contact him at Goosecrick@aol.com or 317-839-7656.