The Day I Checked Out Line Dancing

Checkout lines in retail stores are my little hell on earth but in that I am not alone. I have an uncanny knack for choosing the wrong line, again, nothing unique. But today’s little adventure in Canadian Tire stands out somewhat.

Our Canadian Tire (one of Canada’s most successful department stores) is distinctive in that four of its six checkouts are just decoys, placed there to give the appearance of readiness in the event of a flood of shoppers. In fact, the flood occurs regularly but only two floodgates are open at any one time. So, at least the options for which line to choose are reduced.

Today, there was a long line at one checkout, a short one at the other. Which one would you choose? Exactly.

But, like me, you would be horribly, tragically wrong. There was a reason the one line was long and the other short. The smarter shoppers had figured it out. Those whose brains turn to putty in a store never do.

And so, I entered the short line.

There was a young couple just finishing their checkout and only one other guy to go through. He had one item. One item. A bike rack for his truck. In a very large box but did I mention one item? A breeze, I chuckled triumphantly to myself as I looked with pity on the long row of shoppers in the next line.

However, as Bike Rack Bob approached the till, he lifted his right hand in which was clutched a four-inch wad of Canadian Tire money coupons. I know those of us of Irish descent are inclined to exaggeration and I have acknowledged that a hundred thousand times, but this wad was actually four solid inches in thickness. Maybe even a touch thicker.

The woman at the checkout freaked out. “Oh no,” she said to the guy, who seemed to be a friend or neighbour. “You’re not going to do this to me. I am done my shift.”

But he was not backing down and so the counting began. To complicate matters, Bob turned out to be an incessant chatter and the poor woman had to start over several times as she lost track of where she was.

Other shoppers pulled in behind me, sized up the situation and left for the longer line which was flowing along like lava down a mountainside. But I was committed and I have found from past experience that if I leave the line I am in, something terrible will happen in the other line to make it even worse.

A woman pulled her cart in behind me and we joked a bit before she left for the long line. In a few minutes she gave me a royal wave and smile as she exited the building, her business complete. All the shoppers who had been in front of her, were likewise gone.

In total, the bike rack guy had produced $108 in play money, most of it in denominations of five and ten cents. All that money counted he still owed the clerk $5.11. Had he pulled out a little purse and ventured to settle his account with nickels and dimes, I’m afraid I would have been forced to assault him. As it was, he used a debit card and in a few more minutes was gone.

His only salvation was that he was abjectly apologetic.

I hope Bob enjoys his bike rack for many years to come, years I would have also liked to have had but which are now mostly likely gone as a result of the stress placed upon my nerves from having to stand in line behind him today. And all for the sake of a box of cat litter and some toilet paper.

Ironically a double case of bummer.

©2014 Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.