How I loathe those four god damn machines at Ralphs. I don't know what I hate more about it. The fact that I'm doing the job I pay Ralphs to do for me, or how every 10 seconds I'm reminded to PLEASE PLACE ITEM IN THE BAGGING AREA. Ok Mr. Machine, how about you try placing all the cans and bottles in one bag! I'm not sure if I'm just an idiot or these things are designed just to piss you off. I've never had a quick and simple experience with the self-bagging stuff. Not only is it bad enough that I have problems with the machine, but before I use them the line is ALWAYS empty. And it will stay empty until you start having problems. It's like everyone in Ralphs has a detector that shows them when someones fucking up at self checkout. "Hey guys my shits beeping! Lets go make a long line behind the asshole!" So then they come and wait just so you start rushing and get even more pissed off. And no one wants to help you! Not even the bitch managing the aisles! They all just look at you like this:
After a fight with your item and the bagging area someone will finally come to fix the problem. I try to explain her the problem and instead of kindly answering, the fat bitch says, "SIR PLEASE CALM DOWN. Next time you scan an item put it in the bagging area." NO FUCKING SHIT!!!! Now at this point I'm like...
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| Thats me |
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Biting my knuckle I say ok and continue. Now it's time to pay. Usually I never have a problem at this stage in buying (surprising isn't it) because paying is the easiest part (cheap bastards). This is actually why I love self checkout. Because after all the frustrating trouble of dealing with the bitch ass machine it will tell you your total amount owed. I usually observe this number and begin calculating. I take their offer and give an even better one! It's usually the amount they say I owe multiplied by whatever percent so the total is about $1.00 - what ever the fuck I feel like it is. (max $2.00). I present my offer and they never say no! I flip a very exotic bird to the machine, smile at the security guard, and say LATES BITCHES. Moral of the story: Fuck you Ralphs.
