As I stood in line at Sav-on today, I browsed through the baskets leading to the cashier. They contained the usual items: batteries, candy, water, EPT Plus.
Huh? A home pregnancy test???
Yes, the brilliant minds at Sav-on determined that EPT Plus fits into the category of “impulse buy” (and/or “stocking stuffer”). Don’t they realize a pregnancy test is always the first item on the shopping list and never an afterthought? No woman gets in line, sees the boxes of EPT and says to herself, “Come to think of it, my belly’s getting quite large and I haven’t had my period in six months. Maybe I should buy this.”
A home pregnancy test is one of those items a person goes to the story specifically to buy, like Depends or Kaopectate. And nobody wants to pick up these products with a bunch of other shoppers watching. They want to find them on the middle shelf of an empty aisle so they can throw them in the basket quickly. Then they find wrapping paper, balloons, a card and a rubber chicken so it looks like some elaborate gag gift. At least, that’s what I’d do, because with my luck, I’d grab one of these items then run into some guy I’d been dating for only a week.
If they’re going to display a home pregnancy test as an impulse buy, the least they should do is fill another basket with condoms. That way, if any of the tests come back negative, maybe the store will get some repeat business from the ones who “learned their lesson.”
I’m tempted to return to the store and purchase 10 boxes of EPT. When the cashier shoots me the inevitable look, I’ll give her a wink and say, “Thanks for the reminder to load up before spring training begins. This could be my last year to nab a pro.”
I hit the drive thru at the ‘ol Burger King today. The overabundance of errors they pack into a five minute experience is truly mind boggling. Let’s start with the order. I asked for a small meal.
“We don’t have small, we have medium instead,” the voice told me.
What the…? By definition medium can’t be the smallest! Burger King’s got a lot of nerve to think they can just change the English language because their employees can’t effectively supersize meals. They could do small, large and largest or even large, larger and largest. But medium never gets to be at either end of the line. Do they really think they’re fooling anybody calling the small size “medium?” As much as I’m convinced the world is full of idiots, I don’t believe there’s anybody out there who thinks, “I got a medium sized meal at Burger King for the same price as a small sized meal at McDonald’s! I’m coming to Burger King from now on!” It’s the same way guests staying on the 14th floor of a hotel know that they’re really on the 13th floor. A spade is still a spade.
I drove up to the window and paid for my small-sized, medium-named meal. Why, oh why, do most cashiers insist on giving back the bills or receipt first and then the change? They might as well cut out the middleman and hurl the coins on the ground themselves. I wouldn’t be surprised if “fast food cashier” is listed somewhere on Sir Isaac Newton’s rÃƒÂ©sumÃƒÂ©. Coins first, then paper.
With my bag in hand, the cashier asked me if I wanted ketchup. “No,” I said, “But may I have a side of ranch, please?” As fast food employees always do, the A.D.D.-riddled cashier then threw a handful of ketchup in my bag. I’m aware of the existence of ketchup. I’m sorry if the ketchup industry feels threatened by the growing ranch industry but I don’t need ketchup forced upon me. Maybe next time I should say I also don’t want an apple pie and see what happens.
What’s always the cashier’s final act? To roll that bag up so tight you’d think they’re trying to squeeze it into a clown car. And what’s the first thing I have to do? Unroll that bag to make sure Mr. Minimum Wage Employee didn’t forget something important, like the meal. Keep the bag open so I can quickly check the contents and so you can continue to refer to your business as “fast food.” Although, I wouldn’t put it past Burger King to start referring to their service as “faster food.”