While In the Check Yourself Line

 

By G. E. Shuman

 

I’m sure you’ve found yourself in line at the self-checkout at your local stuff-mart more times than you would like to admit, by now. I know I have. At first, after running stores and checking other people out for years, (no not that way) I hated the idea of checking my own ‘stuff’ out at a store. But now I’m used to it, and actually prefer it.

I’m also sure that, while you’ve been in those lines, you have noticed that you were still surrounded by things to buy. In my previous life as a retail manager, we called those things, ‘impulse items,’ and no other thing was ever as perfectly named as those. The entire purpose of placing those items right in front of your face as you are checking out is to grab a few more of your dollars as you wait for your turn to pay. “I might as well get that candy bar while I’m standing here,” goes through everyone’s mind at one time or another.

I’ve always been able to resist anything except temptation. For me, the temptation is not toward an actual candy bar, but a different little snack. My downfall would be a small bag of chips, (There’s no such thing as too much salt.) or, better yet, a nice bag of peanut brittle! I love that stuff, but infrequently buy it. I never look for it, rarely think about it, and never in my life have gone to a store to get it. Still, if it’s right in front of me, I might buy it. Just the other day I saw a hook full of bags of yummy peanut brittle hanging right there, tempting me, and mocking me for being in that stupid check- yourself line.

Retailers have known for decades that waiting in a line is the perfect time for impulse purchases, because, when it comes to peanut brittle and things like it, you can only resist for just so long. You will probably still be standing there, contemplating whether to grab one of those bags, when it’s your turn to go to the machine. (We used to call those machines cash registers, but most people don’t even use cash anymore, and they’re really only a bunch of (bleeping,) beeping barcode readers these days.)  No ‘cha-ching’ anymore.

Anyway, as I stood in line, my mind went, as it usually does, to irrational, unreal thoughts, like what if I really can’t wait to get some of that peanut brittle and eat it? And even, what if the brittle can’t wait for me? So strange.

I think it’s at times like these when strange people like me really need to contemplate how much the wait is worth, perhaps even weighing how much the peanut brittle is worth. After all, what truly IS peanut brittle anyway, when compared to other things in life? I thought as I waited, ‘peanut brittle is an enigma in many ways. It’s both crunchy and chewy; ‘brittle’ is sweet, but also salty, and PEANUTY!’ (I really need to stop going shopping when I’m hungry. Or maybe I need to get a life.)

But it IS valuable, in some way, or people wouldn’t buy it. Right? So, what would we be willing to trade for it? I also thought as I stood there. We would trade money, of course, or the brittle would never have been placed at that checkout in the first place. What more than money would we trade, considering our love for it, our hungry tummies, and the fact that we have already waited so long in that line? It is a thought worth thinking, at least if you’re me, and at least at that moment. We certainly wouldn’t trade a child or a spouse, but perhaps just an in-law or two? Who really knows. Let’s see… how many bags or boxes for one in-law?

I guess I did overthink peanut brittle, at least a little, while I stood there with my wife and our shopping cart. How do they make that stuff; why do they make it? How did they decide what to make it out of; how would they know how it would taste, and other such important thoughts that absolutely no one else in that check-yourself line was thinking.

Suddenly a register opened up and it was my turn to check out. Believe it or not I didn’t actually grab one of those little bags of brittle on that particular stuff-mart visit. I have no idea why not, just as you have no idea why I wrote this column, or, more importantly, why you just read it.

Still, the more a thing is mentioned, the more you read words like ‘peanut-brittle,’ and talk about ‘peanut-brittle,’ and imagine ‘peanut-brittle,’ the deeper it is planted in your consciousness, and, if you like the stuff at all, the more you will want it. Our brains are weirdly wired that way, and mine is, obviously, wired weirder than most. But if I’m right, the peg hooks and shelves of peanut brittle at Vermont stuff-marts and supermarkets may be getting empty soon. If so, they can thank me later.