Used the Self-Checkout at the supermarket today!
The supermarket a few blocks from where I live have these automated self-checkout machines. The law here requires alcohol to be sold by a human over the age of 21. So I can’t buy alcohol using the self-checkout, or from a vending machine for that matter.
That means I’ve not had the chance to use the self-checkout more than twice before. Instead, I always wait in the line so I can checkout with a store associate.
I’m a regular fixture at this store. I show up up every morning at 5:55am, say hello to Steve the security guard, grab two drinks from the beer cooler, grab a box of Honey Oh’s from the cerea isle, and then head to June’s open checkout lane. Alcohol sales here begin at 6am, by law. They all know who I am and my routine.
Except, I curiously haven’t been there since last Sunday, almost a full week ago. I have a pantry and fridge stocked with food. Turns out the only reason to visit the supermarket every morning is so that I can start my day with drinks. Which always leads to more drinks, and more drinks, well you know. That’s why you’ve read this far, because you know what it’s like.
Today I showed up in the middle of the afternoon and the store is packed. Multiple checkout lanes open, all with long lines. The weather is fantastic and many of the people lined up are young people with cases of beer and wine in hand. (There’s a big park next door)
I grab a shopping basket and pick up some fruit juices, cut watermelon, tonic water, ice cream, and some prepared meals. I sailed past the lines of people and step in front of an idle self-checkout stand. I scan and bag my items, pay, and leave in mere minutes. I was so thrilled I totally forgot my drunk snack the Honey Ohs.
It’s sounds like a really small thing, but to me the self-checkout machine represents the freedom I didn’t previously have. I’m not expecting sobriety to provide my an Express Lane through life, but at least it does in the supermarket.
It’s Saturday night. I’ve had some juice and a good dinner. I usually go out on Saturday night hoping to chat and dance with people in this colorful city. Instead, I usually get too shitfaced for anyone to want to get to know me.
I’m just going to stay home and cap the end of my 6th day on a high note. The only 6 days I’ve been both alcohol free and pot free in twenty years. I hear the “woo girls” under my window on their way to the bars. I’ll have some ice cream instead.
Cheers my friends