Are Supermarket Express Checkouts Really Faster?

I had another harrowing experience at the supermarket and felt compelled to take a deep breath and blog about it.  Trust me, its better than kicking the dog!  Only kidding Shannon (my dog).

I suppose it all started in the parking lot. Its difficult enough to get around my town, let alone find a parking space at the grocery store.  The lack of available spaces are directly proportionate to one's lack of time.  Essentially, the less time you have, the fewer spaces there are.

To make matters worse, we have more than our fair share of senior and super senior citizens in our town.  Most of them drive slower than a ride-on lawn mower, but that is a different story!  If you have enough of them navigating the parking lot, slipping into a space yourself can be a  major accomplishment.  

Once inside the store, a quick surveillance reveals that there are no customers in line, and the check out clerks are dazed and staring into space.  Odd I thought, why was the parking lot so full if there are no customers?

I grab my basket and quickly bound down the isles to gather the few last minute things I need.  Racing around the store, I hardly pass any shoppers until I finish and am back at the front of the store.  Where did they all come from?  I am horrified. 

This is the moment every experienced shopper dreads.  Which line to choose?  Hmmm.  Like a military leader, ready for battle on the front line, I size up the enemy.  Carefully, I eye each line for movement.  Evaluating speed and cadence is just as strategic as the number of people in each line.

I narrow it down to a few lines.  One of them is the express checkout line.  Hmm. Two elderly people, a lanky teenager, and a housewife.  Are the senior citizens a couple?  No.  Looks like two separate transactions.  Sketchy.  That could be trouble, but the kid is just getting a pack of gum.  The housewife looks efficient and safe.

The next line over is a full service line and only has three people, but the they have a lot of groceries!  The first one seems like she is almost finished, but the large woman at the end of the line has such an over stuffed cart, I can't believe its not falling out.  I have to decide soon.  Masses of additional shoppers are approaching.

I make my choice.  The express line it is, and I step into place. The requirement is 15 items or less.  I have 16 items, but  2 of them are the same item.  What do I do?  I once heard a rumor that multiple items of the same type only count as one.  Can I be certain that the woman behind me has heard of this same rumor?  What should I do?  Do I lose an item?  Do I try to look distracted, stupid, or confused?  Do I apologize?

I take a closer look at her.  She looks tired and distracted.  She has two children with her acting up.  Perhaps they will break her first and she won't have the energy to challenge my item count.  If a fight breaks out, I am pretty sure I can take her.

I watch the other checkout lines as they seem to be moving at mach 1 speed, while I have fallen into a black hole where time is moving backwards.  How difficult can it be to get through an express lane?   I begin tapping my feet, rolling my eyes, and perfecting my cold stare. Completely useless actions, so I have no idea why I behave this way.

The elderly gentleman seems confused.  Is it possible that this is really the first time he has been in a modern grocery store?  He doesn't seem to know how to slide his credit card through the machine.  He has a hearing aid in his ear and can't hear the clerk's instructions.  Once he finally gets some traction with his card, he asks about discounts and the clerk reminds him he needs to tap in his phone number into the credit card machine to get the discount.  The man remains confused and the clerk handles it for him.  Finally! 

Ok.  Ok. Now I only have three people in front of me.  Shouldn't take much longer.  They are  much more respectful than me, and have far fewer than 15 items each, but I don't have time to review their items.  I am too busy watching the shoppers in the next line over speed through the checkout.  How did that line move so quickly?  The large woman with the over stuffed cart has already moved into position and is placing her items on the conveyor.  I would have been behind her, and I think I can still beat her.  The race is on!

My eyes glance back at the elderly woman in my line.  She is trying to pay for her items, but has opted to pay in cash.  Her nimble little fingers are shaking as she tries to get the exact change out of her tiny red rubber coin purse.  She must be in her 90s.  Funny, she didn't look that old from behind, when I first entered the line.  I twist my body in place and glance at my watch.

Oh well, she is almost done.  She is busy chit chatting with the clerk.  "Hurry Up!", I am thinking.  Don't they know I need to finish before the woman in other line?  Tick Tock. Seconds count! Of course I feel awful and look around sheepishly to make sure no one can hear my thoughts.  This is probably the highlight of her day, and I try to imagine my own mother or grandmother in this situation.  I relax a bit and smile.

Finally, she is on her way and the teenager buys his pack of gum.  Quick, smooth, fast.  He is out of the line in a flash and never looses a beat with his texting.

The checker starts scanning the items from the woman just ahead of me.  Zip, zip, zip.   I am extremely pleased now, as my line is finally moving.  But I am obsessed with the woman in the next line.  Looks like she is done and is swiping her card.  How did that checker get though all those items so quickly.  Who gets the credit?  Was she an overly organized shopper or was that a super checker?  I take a mental picture of the checker and lock it away.  Good to remember her for my next visit.  She's fast. 

My checker is done too.  It was almost a tie.  Then, as the housewife in front of me is swiping her credit card, she suddenly remembers her coupons.  What???!!  She asks the clerk if its too late to use, them.  I know what my answer is!  But the clerk doesn't seem to be able to read my mind, and agrees to accept them.  Damn!  Foiled again by the misleading looking housewife.