The Rules

Generally when I enter any public roadway, there is apparently a beacon that goes out, telling all senior citizens (particularly old women who appear behind the wheel as a puff of white hair and knuckles, and particularly any man who fought in WWI and wears a hat) that it is GO time. Said bulletin also apparently contains my description (although of course the slow people in my area all recognize me by sight) and my destination, along with the notice that the time to run their errands is NOW. If by chance I am headed to the grocery store, an additional bulletin goes out to any backwoods family with at least 20 children that NOW is the time to come down from the hills and stock up on the staples they have been needing.

My entry into any store stimulates every register to need the tape changed, and for half the cashiers to end their shift. The other half go on break. I stand and watch the speedy, efficient and friendly cashier that checked out the person before me leave, to be replaced with the clerk hired under the store's new "Nell outreach program". Any competent cashier stranded at the register as I approach must either force their register to crash, or spontaneously decapitate.

When I approach a teller or a self-check in a store, there is invariably some person in front of me who recently either escaped from captivity, or immigrated to this country from somewhere there is no electricity. They are therefore endlessly both intrigued and mystified by the wonders of any computerized anything. In the case of the self-check, they will also be enrolled in at least three public assistance programs, the items for which must be totaled separately. In the case of the ATM, this person will be doing ALL the yearly banking for some small, disorganized country.