Let me say at the outset that I am calm.
I say this because my wife has already read a draft of this column and asked whether I would like to “talk about the machine.” I would not like to talk about the machine. I would like to write about the machine, in a newspaper, calmly, which is how reasonable men have always handled machines.
Here is what happened. On Thursday at 4:10 p.m. I went to the hardware store to buy one replacement cabinet hinge, $3.49. The line for the human cashier was nine people long, and the human cashier was explaining paint to a man who did not want to understand paint. So I went to the self-checkout. I am not afraid of the self-checkout. I have used it before, successfully, twice.
I scanned the hinge. The machine said “beep.” I placed the hinge in the bagging area. The machine said, in a woman’s voice I would describe as disappointed, “Unexpected item in the bagging area.”
The hinge was the item. I had just scanned it. The machine had watched me scan it. We had both been there.
I removed the hinge. The machine said, “Please place the item in the bagging area.” I placed the hinge in the bagging area. The machine said, “Unexpected item in the bagging area.”
I want to be clear that I did not raise my voice. I simply asked the machine, in a normal tone, WHAT IT HAD BEEN EXPECTING.
I apologize. That got away from me. I am calm.
Here is the thing you need to understand about me. I have never been unexpected in my life. I RSVP. I arrive 10 minutes early and wait in the car so that I can arrive on time. I call ahead to say that I will be calling. I RSVP TO THINGS THAT DO NOT ASK FOR AN RSVP. I RSVP’D TO MY OWN BIRTHDAY PARTY. I RSVP’D TO MY OWN WEDDING, AND MY WIFE STILL HAS THE CARD.
Fine.
After the fourth “unexpected item,” a light on top of the machine began to flash, which I understand is how the machine calls for an adult. A young woman came over, waved a card at it, typed a code, and said, “It just does that.” Then she said, “There you go, hon,” and walked away, and the machine said, “Thank you for shopping with us,” as though nothing had happened between us.
Something had happened between us.
IT JUST DOES THAT. I want those four words engraved somewhere. I want them on the machine.
I reached Dr. Marjorie Teller of the Center for Measured Outcomes, who told me that the nation’s self-checkout machines describe 73.18 percent of all items as unexpected, including 11.4 percent of items they have just scanned and 4.02 percent of customers’ hands. She said that further study is needed and that the Center has already applied for the funding. I asked whether the application had been approved. She said it was in the bagging area.
So here is my proposal, and I think you will find it modest. I am not asking that self-checkout machines be removed. I am a reasonable man. I am asking only that every self-checkout machine in the nation be required, by law, to state in advance what it is expecting. In writing. On a laminated card, at eye level, before the first beep. If the machine expects a hinge, it can say so. If it expects nothing, it can say that, and we will all know where we stand, and the machine can think about the kind of machine it wants to be.
The hinge is installed now. It is on the cabinet door under the sink, and it works fine. When I open the door, it makes a small sound, which I have decided is the sound of something that was expected.
My blood pressure on Monday was 127 over 81. Last week it was 125 over 80. My doctor says it is “something to keep an eye on.” I told him I am keeping both eyes on it, calmly, and that it should expect me.