Today I made a journey to the Mecca of the South, that is, Wal-Mart. You have to live in the South to fully understand the significance this massive superstore chain has on the local culture. It’s the place to see and to be seen. Teens hang out there, old people go there to get exercise. It’s a phenomenon, really.
As I reflectively wandered the aisles this afternoon I found some cool light-up shoes for Toddler Boy, I bought some —ahem— personal items for myself, and I looked in vain for a decent pair of long-fingered driving gloves for my bike. I did, however, find some great polo shirts.
I made my way into the self checkout line. I wonder, each time I do the ‘self serve’ thing, if it’s really any quicker than waiting for a real cashier. The item scanners on the self checkout lines seem to be slower and less astute at reading bar codes. Perhaps if a scanner flunks out of school this is where it ends up, in the self checkout lines of Wal-Mart. Its more accomplished classmates, meanwhile, end up in the high end stores ringing up Dolce & Gabbana.
The people in the self checkout lines also seem to be somewhat in awe of this technology. It’s cryptic to them, scanning and paying for things. I admit, it does seem a little odd. It’s almost too voluntary, too easy to cheat. But I digress.
As I was standing in line, waiting for the fellow in front of me to finish feeding his dollar bills, one at a time, into the machine (insatiable appetite) I saw a row of cans. Cans of compressed air, sitting there next to the Snickers bars and Skittles. I figured now would be a good time to pick up a can and clean out the innards of my PC, they get caked in dust so fast you know. I grabbed a small-ish can and tossed it into my cart all the while muttering something to myself about impulse purchases.
As I finally got my turn at the money-taking-machine I started scanning my items one at a time. Beep … beep … beep. Then I scanned the can of compressed air. Beep … ‘authorization required’ the lady in the box said. I waited for the teenage girl to come and ‘authorize’ my purchase of my air.
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It’s interesting, isn’t it? I really don’t care that air is legislated against. I understand the rationale, though I disagree with it. Canned air is legislated the exact same way as cigarettes; 18 years or older to purchase. Cigarettes are kept under lock and key. Canned air is sitting on the shelf in the ‘impulse aisles’ next to the kiddie toys and pocket sized Kleenex packages. Meanwhile printer cartridges, hardly legislated, are also, just like cigarettes, kept under lock and key.
The ‘logic’ of our law makers and business owners astounds me.
