So today I went to the supermarket. I hadn't exactly planned on it, seeing as I had just been there yesterday, but I had gone for dinner in the vicinity, and one member of my dinner party had to shop, so we all tagged along. This is where I usually refrain from shopping altogether or shop on impulse. Today I went with door number two.
So one of the items I impulsively acquired is of a rather intimate nature. Call me overly conservative, but, for some reasons, I'm not entirely at ease shopping for certains things. In that sense, the new-ish do-it-yourself, self-service quick cashiers have been a breath of fresh air. Now, of course, they're far from perfect, but they do well enough, most of the time.
Now this particular item is boxed and then wrapped in celofane. Just as luck would have it, the celofane seam lays right across the barcode, making scanning rather difficult. This leaves me with two choices: either manually input the product code (which I can't really read, the print is too small) or call for assistence (which I'd rather not do). SO I take the creative way out and tear the celofane right then and there, enabling easy scan of the barcode.
Then, on my way out, the detectors beep madly at me, as if I'd shoplifted anything. I resent any such accusation, but, then again, the machine does work kind of funny, and I immediately suspected one of the cookie boxes hadn't registred propperly. I expected security to be called to deal with this matter (and really would have prefered it had been so), but instead, a very petitte attendant in charge of the self-service cashiers steps up. Now, if I had indeed shoplifted, I could all too easily have just lumped her and dashed for it, she would have nary a prayer of stopping me, and I'm not even the strong type. But still she comes to check for my bags, and soon finds out that it is the exact same rather embarasing item that set off the alarm. As it turned out, there's a sort of capacitor circuit sticker (you know what I mean, right? It looks like a silvery square-ish spiral) thingy inside the box which must be de-activated at a pad of sorts. Now, the box, though not really very large, is of a suis-generis shape, and hard as all hell to conceal. Why, ye gods, why should then that be chosen for marking with a device that prevents all discretion? It can't be easily stolen! Trying to embarass shoppers? The pox on you all!
On the brighter side of news, with final marks out today, I just found out I have finally rid myself of a thorn on my side for two well over a year now, and for good. Sadly, this means I might very well never again attend a lecture by master Borges.
Pax vobiscum atque vale.
ArabianShark wishes to put great emphasis on that he is by no means sarcastic about regretting not working under master Borges's tutelage again. Wish that more masters would be any measure like him. Honest. And you can't know what embarasing item it was all about.