"Check This Out"

By Jerry Zezima

If you want something done, goes an old saying, do it yourself. Unless you’re me, in which case you not only have a lot to worry about but couldn’t finish a do-it-yourself project or write a self-help book without asking someone else (not me) for help.

This is especially true when it comes to self-checkouts.

“Are you ready to check out?” a nice store employee named Flora asked me recently.

“Not for many more years,” I answered nervously. “Maybe I should ask my doctor.”

“I mean,” she said, “do you want to ring up your purchases?”

“Yes,” I answered as I pushed my shopping cart to the register.

“It’s closed,” I was told. “But you could go to the self-checkout.”

“I can’t check myself out without a mirror,” I joked.

Flora smiled and said, “Have you ever used the self-checkout?”

“Yes,” I said, “but I couldn’t get the hang of it. I needed help.”

“That’s why I’m here,” said Flora.

“If you need to help people at the self-checkout, why doesn’t the store just let them check out at the regular checkout?” I wondered.

“I don’t know,” said Flora, adding very politely that older people such as yours truly are the ones who often need help checking out because they can’t check out themselves.

“You should check that out,” I said after Flora helped me scan my purchases and pay for them with a debit card. “It’s a good thing I didn’t pay by check,” I said.

Then I went to another store and met Nick, whose job is to stand at the self-checkout and help people who can’t help themselves.

“It’s usually the older ones who have trouble,” he said.

“How old are you?” I asked.

“I’m 19,” Nick replied. “I’ve been working here for two months.”

“Did you have trouble learning the self-checkout?” I wanted to know.

“Yes,” he said. “I wasn’t familiar with it. When I was a kid, I started with an iPod. This is the way it’s going to be when I get older. I’ll be asking my kids, ‘How does this work?’ They’ll think I don’t know anything.”

Just then, a middle-age customer named Jay had trouble with his purchase, a clamp connector.

“Can you scan it for me?” he pleaded.

“There’s no scan code,” Nick said.

“Does that mean it’s free?” I wondered.

“I wish,” said Jay.

Nick found the price, $34.62, and helped Jay put it on a store credit card.

Next up was John, a guy in his 30s who couldn’t scan the molding he wanted to buy.

“A customer needs assistance in self-checkout,” a disembodied woman’s voice said.

Nick came to the rescue. The price: $12.97.

“Thanks,” said John. “These machines stink.”

A customer named Joe couldn’t ring up a cordless vacuum cleaner that cost $169.

“This side takes cash, the other side doesn’t,” Nick told him.

“Whatever gets me out of here quickly,” said Joe, who paid with a card and left.

An older married couple named Robin and Brian pulled up to the self-checkout.

“I’ve been here a hundred times and there’s never been a problem,” Brian said as he tried to ring up his purchase of household items. “Now it’s not working!”

Nick helped Brian with his four-digit PIN.

“Some people would give it one digit,” I suggested.

That’s what Paul, a 71-year-old grandfather, wanted to do after it took him about 15 minutes and visits to three different self-checkouts to pay, with Nick’s patient help, $458.06 for home improvement supplies.

The only people who didn’t have trouble at the self-checkout were a young couple with a toddler who was sitting in the shopping cart while sucking on a lollipop.

“There’s the future,” said Nick. “When he grows up, maybe he’ll learn how to check himself out.”

Copyright 2025 by Jerry Zezima