Why is it that when you’re in a rush and you’re waiting for one of those self service checkouts in the supermarket (thinking it’ll be faster and that you won’t have to engage in conversation with some care-in-the-community case intent on pushing the madness envelope) the only people in front of you in the queue are morons, and not just your run of the mill anuses, that but the kind who would normally find the putting shopping in a carrier bag unaided part to be a challenge in itself, let alone the concept of scanning and paying for the 3 items they’re trying to purchase as well.
It’s either that or a mother with a couple of despicably spoiled little shits who seems to think that it’s just one big cocking playground for her bickering spawn, and that the rest of the shoppers waiting with increasingly murderous intentions find the 10 minutes her offspring spend arguing over who’s going to scan the last yoghurt absolutely enthralling too. Bless them. We don’t. We want all of you to die in a fire.
Oh, and surely it’s not beyond the technological abilities of mankind as a whole to devise a conveyor belt that can tell if there is actually something on it or not.
L
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I used to work at a till company and I know that the laser scanners are basically designed with, like, a million prisms in them; you could wrap your loaf of Rathbones in tinfoil, turn it upside down and waft it 4 feet above and to the left of the “eye” and the till will still be able to beep and tell you to get more vitamins in your diet. Armed with this knowledge, I usually have to refrain from buying anything heavy/hard/sharp at the supermarket in case I get stuck behind one of these fuckwits and end up stoving their head in with a 6 pack of Imperial Leather.