A visit to an ALDI grocery store never fails to be an adventure of some sort. (iStock)
There are two types of people in the world: Those who hear a car horn honk while driving and assume they did something wrong; and those who hear the same honk and believe wholeheartedly that someone else is to blame.
Unfortunately, I belong to the former type, and this trait often affects my daily activities in regrettable ways.
Today, I decided to forgo the comfort of the commissary, my old standby, and give our local Aldi another try. I’d taken a yearlong hiatus from Aldi after produce I’d purchased there went bad quickly. But the store was right across the street from my eye exam appointment, so I wandered over.
After a mini-panic attack when I thought I didn’t have a quarter to unlock a cart, I found the right coin and entered the air-conditioned bastion of fluorescent lights and buffed floors. I’d forgotten how adventurous shopping at Aldi could be with its quasi-European foods, strange brands and eclectic mix of products.
My first experiences with Aldi were when our family was stationed in Germany years ago. I always appreciated the no-frills discount vibe, and the lightning-fast cashiers. Aldi never had baggers to haul everything to my car, but maybe I’d find some German chocolate or interesting cheeses that would make my excursion worth the hassle.
Halfway through shopping, it occurred to me that aisles had been rearranged, produce seemed fresher and there were interesting new packaged foods. I happily heaped my cart with Fried Pickle Dip, Herbed Chicken Tortellinis, Cranberry White Cheddar Cheese, Rosemary Raisin Crackers, Marinated Chicken Skewers, Buona Italian Beef and strange Dutch cookies.
“Commissary baggers be damned!” I thought, skipping toward checkout with my adventurous haul. Just before reaching checkout, I stopped, my Birkenstocks skidding behind the momentum of my heavy cart. Everything suddenly looked foreign. The old checkout lanes had been replaced with six new kiosks. I heard the “beep-beep” of scanners and saw an overhead sign reading “Self-Checkout.”
I’ve never liked self-checkout. Inevitably, I do something wrong that causes flashing lights, beeps and aggressive warnings such as “Remove last item from the bagging area!” “Follow instructions on the keypad!” “Wait for assistance!”
In the end, I leave the store feeling inadequate when I never aspired to be a grocery store cashier in the first place.
Thankfully, one traditional checkout lane remained at my local Aldi, with a cashier I recognized. He had a voice like an audio book narrator, and I made a plan to compliment him for it. I heaved my items on his conveyor belt and he whisked them over the scanner and into a cart. “This is more like it,” I thought, glad I’d avoided self-checkout misery.
Suddenly, a commotion at the self-serve kiosks interrupted my cart-emptying trance. The smooth-voiced cashier began barking instructions to confused customers.
“Press ‘Pay Now.’ Press ‘Pay Now’! PRESS ‘PAY NOW’!” he yelled. The customers were still stymied, so the cashier kept shouting — “Enter the number! Put it in the bag! Slide your card!” — getting more and more irritated with each command.
While glaring at the poor patrons, he mumbled sarcastically through gritted teeth, “Good job; you read the words on the screen for once.” I abandoned my plan to compliment the cashier, because I was now scared of him.
As if his shouts were car horns honking in traffic, I cowered like I was responsible for making him mad. I fumbled for my debit card. “Sorry, I’m nervous,” I apologized for no reason at all. I grabbed my receipt and full cart and headed straight for the door.
While heaving groceries into my car, I wished I’d had the guts to tell that cashier, “Stop yelling! They’re trying to do YOUR job!” I scanned the parking lot, needing to commune with fellow customers about the injustice of self-check and the tendency some of us have to blame ourselves too much.
More than anything, I wanted to offer my cart to another customer to make us both feel better. Turns out, the best thing I found at Aldi today wasn’t the cheese, it was the feeling of passing along my quarter while taking a pass on blame.
Read more at themeatandpotatoesoflife.com and in Lisa’s book, “The Meat and Potatoes of Life: My True Lit Com.” Email: meatandpotatoesoflife@gmail.com
