I finished building the second, permanent version of the wood fired oven, and demolished the test version that's served me for a year. At a 105 cm in diameter, the new one is twice the floor space and so four times the volume of the test version, so it fires very differently, takes longer to preheat, consumes more fuel. It's also considerably more ergonomic, I can cook in it without bending over (the tester was just 40 cm above ground level), and the new concrete kitchen counters nearby are a treat to work on.
Just before the end of the year I was at Kohnan, my favourite home centre, and was sad to discover that they too installed self checkout registers. I lined up for the old school cashier line, and a helpful clerk overseeing the area told me that the self checkout registers are available immediately, with no line.
"I hate self-checkout registers," I shot back at her, probably more bitterly than was called for, but she kept her smile and nodded. Solid training. Iron mask. Almost robotic. Most store clerks are. Yet even at their most detached and robotic, I still choose them over the cold touch screens of self checkout.
The girl at the register scans my items, and I ask her for a plastic bag. She makes eye contact, smiles shyly, and nods. As I think that this tiny interaction was well worth the wait, a familiar voice behind me says
"The self checkout registers are available!"
I turn around, and see a middle-aged couple lining up behind me.
"No, thanks," replies the woman in a voice that leaves no ambiguity.
I smile all the way to the parking lot. All is not lost.
Comments
Post a Comment