We’ve all had the embarrassing experience at self-checkout where you scan something and the machine freaks out because you looked at it wrong or it decided your canned soup doesn’t weigh as much as canned soup should. Some stores back home are even closing their self-checkouts due to the sheer number of times “assistance” is needed, but not Ireland. No, here in Dublin every grocery store, small or large has self-checkout as sometimes the exclusive way to purchase your basket full of spring rolls that’ll stick to the pan, pomegranate seeds that expire the hour after you buy them, and the aforementioned canned soup my roommate secretly judges me for.
My main grocery stop is Marks & Spencer which at first glance is a fancy department store with beautiful coats that taunt me on my way to the literal basement where the “food hall” is. But once you’re down there, it’s the mecca of ‘throw it in the microwave or oven’ meals, my favorite kind. Since it’s Ireland, it’s all fresh and free from the preservatives in their American equivalents, so everyone can leave me and my microwave fried rice, oven spring rolls, and loaves of freshly made garlic bread alone. If you ever find yourself in Dublin, be sure to stop in for their freshly squeezed lemonade, a chocolate muffin from the bakery section, and the many fresh soups. Grab the teacakes and “protein” yogurt while you’re at it. I recommend when you’re in the produce section, choose the ones with the “Ireland” tag, not the “British,” just so you can feel slightly vindicated against the UK. (I study the Cromwellian era, trust me)
Now that you’ve gotten a sense of my hodge podge grocery haul, I move onto the humiliation of self checkout. The M&S machines were set up for someone buying a snack or two, not an actual grocery trip and leaves you with about one square foot to pile a week’s worth of food onto. On the one hand, it’s nice to get a little bit of Italy as you stack your food into a mini Leaning Tower of Pisa. But then there are the days, the tower falls…I’ve provided pictures below to illustrate the horror of watching it slip away as you scramble to catch it all before your precious cheesy breadstick crackers hit the floor. Hey, I didn’t come to Trinity for engineering, I came to study dildo poems. (Although those do solve a different kind of falling problem…)
But that, my friends, is not even the embarrassing moment I’m speaking of. It was last Saturday when I scanned my beloved spring rolls and the dreaded message came: “ask colleague for assistance.” I swear to god, all I did was scan it but I had to do the walk of shame over to the employee and sheepishly say, “The machine is mad at me.” (direct quote) Kindly she went to fix it, but found even she couldn’t, so she had to go get yet another colleague. Meanwhile, I’m standing there contemplating my entire existence as onlookers watch my abject humiliation. Finally it’s concluded “there must be something wrong with the spring rolls”…and they were confiscated. Do I love those spring rolls so much I briefly went ‘hey, how bad could it be’ in my head? Yes, absolutely.
Truly though, I think the worst part of this all is the word ‘colleague.’ The word ‘employee’ or ‘attendant’ indicates I am not on the same level as the person I’m asking assistance from. They have more power than me to solve whatever problem I have created. But ‘colleague’ suggests the employee and I are on equal levels, meaning I should be able to fix it myself. Instead of asking someone above me with power, I have to ask my peer, how much more embarrassing. I left M&S in a cloud of shame, but at least I had a “yummit” in my bag, so how bad could it be?
P.S. Be sure to check out next week’s dispatch to hear from our special guest writer: my mom! She’s coming for a visit and will be sharing her own (hopefully) humorous moments with you all.
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