Why Self-Check Machines Are Great

The self check machines in grocery stores are one of the best inventions ever. I know a lot of people dislike them, but the fact is that they're awesome.

The first and foremost reason is that they don't involve interacting with another human being, which, if you read my last post, you'll understand is an objectionable task for me. I enjoy the cold comforts of automated phone systems and humanless grocery-purchasing.

The second reason I like them is that they're faster. In the standard lanes, I'll get stuck standing behind A) someone doing the shopping for a household and has a cart overflowing with crap that will take up three belt's worth of space B) The Coupon Queen (not always a woman) who insists their expired and/or irrelevant coupons are valid and will not take no for an answer or C) someone on WIC who doesn't understand that Kraft singles are "cheese food" and don't count as real cheese and loudly debates said fact with the wretched cashier who knows better.

In the self check lane, I can scan my own small amount of items and shove them into a bag in the time it would have taken me to look over the tabloids and get worked into a boiling rage over how stupid humanity is.

The  number one reason that the self checks are great, however, is for when you need to buy embarrassing products and don't feel like showing them to strangers. Here's an example:
We had moved into our new house a few months ago and the washing machine wasn't in yet and wouldn't be for a few more days. However, I was out of clean underpants.
Going to a laundromat is also an objectionable task, so I chose the sensible option of buying more. So I went to the Meijer (for those outside the Midwest, it's like Walmart or Target). While I was there, I realized I also needed more Pepto Bismol, as I get heartburn often and was out.
I was merrily on my way to the check lanes when I realized what sort of mental image this might conjure for anyone else.

If I'd been forced to go through a checkout lane, I would have invariably been helped by an attractive, age-similar woman who would kindly, but futilely, try and hide her giggles when I handed her my things. I would blush fervently and try to avoid eye contact while simultaneously trying to look like I wasn't the least bit embarrassed by this. I might even blabber out some joke about the situation which would have sounded good in my head, but as it left my lips, I'd have realized it was much less clever than I had imagined and would only have cemented the idea that I'm buying these things not by chance, but in response to an unanticipated bout of explosive diarrhea.
I would quickly but awkwardly pay for my purchases and leave, head held in shame, so I can go home and replay the entire depraved situation in my mind over and over again.
This would also have the added bonus of making me too ashamed to go to that store ever again on the off chance that the cashier would see me and recognize me as the Underwear/Pepto Guy. I'd be driving across town for a wildly less convenient but potentially less embarrassing store.

But no! That didn't need to happen! The cold, inanimate self-check and its feminine yet lifeless voice circumvented this atrocity and passed no judgement on me. I walked out of the store, my antacid and underwear firmly in hand (in an mostly opaque bag).