A Few Lines About Lines

In the supermarket, whatever check-out line I choose suddenly grinds to a halt as soon as I get in it.

What am I doing wrong?

I choose the shortest line.

I do not queue up behind old ladies. They write checks.

Or behind the person who keeps their coupons in a multi-pocketed organizer-thing, because you know that at least one of their coupons will not go through and they will want to know why.

But even with all my precautions, I get stuck.

The most common reason: the cashier will walk off with no warning, leaving us all to wonder if he or she will ever come back. (Helpful hint to all those cashiers out there who were apparently raised without human contact: if there’s some sort of delay, just say so.)

Or something won’t scan. “Do you know how much this is?” the cashier asks hopefully. The customer is never certain. When I am the one asked, I just pick a reasonable-sounding figure and say it with great conviction.

But other people won't do that. So, we all wait for someone to go find the item on the shelves. Which will take forever.

And I bang my head against the candy rack in frustration.