Buying one or two of something that is inexpensive will raise an eyebrow, given that such an object will even be available on a unitary basis. Ever looked for “a” sheet of paper, “a” safety pin, “a”razor blade. Take one egg, the recipe said and I felt that it might well be easier to follow that advice to the letter rather than to try and buy one. Buying one egg is not easy; certainly not as easy as taking one egg as eggs are, if not free, at least free of a bar code. So, to the putative shop lifter, an egg in the pocket is better than six in a box. The 
worst scenario would be forgetfulness leading to the finding of a chemically created and steam pressed omelette in the pocket of your jacket clearly illustrating that dry cleaners are also no slouches at molecular cuisine. Such an omelette would also act as a sign that we are not alone and that someone is watching from on high. “Lord, lord I didna’ ken” you may cry, and the Lord in his infinite mercy may well reply, somewhat frostily ” Well, you ken noo”. It is worth remembering that you are unlikely to encounter a store detective who is both Scottish and whose mercy has not been strained. It will have been, through a horse hair sieve leaving you in a horse hair shirt of festive repentance.
This fear of Scottish detectives and the Lord’s vengeance arose after an encounter with a deity of this modern world – the unforgiving, omniscient, omnipotent “serve yourself, and serve you right” electronic, supemarket scanner. Up to this point in my life I have not found anything that warrants standing in a queue, although RyanAir have forced me to stand in such a queue which ended in a experience which, as expected, did not warrant the misery of the wait. Because of this disinclination, when shopping in a supermarket, I choose to pass the test of the scanner. I have never seen Hercules queuing for the till, as cleaning the Augean Stables takes less time and they pay him with a box of shopping. Nice work if you can get it – better than having your liver pecked for eternity.
I have come to respect the scanner for the untamed beast that it is. I see myself as the Scanner Whisperer. My scanner and I are contained in a calm capsule of commerce in which the only sound to be heard is the curt bleep of acceptance signalling the scanners approval of each of my disparate, yet carefully weighed and labelled packages. Outside of this capsule is a world of blinking red lights, trumpeting alarms and the cries of the damned. It would not take a reincarnated Dante long to establish The Nine Circles as a chain of supermarkets offering a superlatively painful way of shopping to those amongst us who were not without sin. A red light started to flash, seemingly very close to me, so much so that I feared my capsule of calm had been breached by an overload of external errors. Mind numbingly, I realised that it was my machine signalling that I had failed it in some trivial, yet unforgivable, way. I kept passing the printed bar code, that was clearly marked on the lid of the box of six eggs, over the glass platen and then putting the box in my bag on the scales – alles in ordnung, mein Fuhrer. The machine was now apoplectic and flashing floridly fit to bust, yet I could not for the life of me see how I could appease it. Would I have to remain here in the Ninth Circle and miss the festivities? And then the angel descended and spoke in tongues to me. Luckily I speak “tongue” but I was still troubled in spirit for I knew not the reason for her coming, nor the meaning of her salutation. “Don’t be a prat, the bar code stands for each single egg. You have to pass the box six times for six eggs”. And so it came to pass that I left the Ninth Circle and wandered freely into the car park, hoping that the fiery chariot had not, yet again, got a flat battery.
Ha ha – I noticed a stall at the farmers market selling eggs yesterday, but they didn’t have any boxes. Good job I brought my own, but not much use to most people 😉
Someone’s got to invent a flat reusable egg box that you can keep in your wallet:)
When I lived in Spain, 20 years ago, the shop where I bought eggs just wrapped them loose in newspaper.
Was it the El Bumen?
Ha ha – no I think they printed the pictures with El Bumen 😉
Too funny! I’m thinking that since you had to pass the container 6 times over the scanner for the 6 eggs, then technically, you should have been able to buy a single egg. Just saying :).
And now you see why I ended up a photographer, not a rich businessman. I spent a lifetime just seeing but not making any sense of it:)
Such a clever photo with a brilliant post! Here in the local shops, they often put the eggs in a little plastic bag. They used to look at me like I was a mad woman when I turned up with my egg boxes – now at least I only have to transport them from the olive grove to the kitchen, without using my “fiery chariot”!
I’ve often wished we had chickens, but I don’t think there is a consensus of opinion on that option in the household:)
They´re no trouble at all, and even cleaning them out isn´t such a big deal! They can be hilarious too – bet you´ve have hours of entertainment trying to photograph them…
We had a client on Camerahols, from Kentucky, who had changed from a long career in advertising to raising chickens. He had some funny stories, that’s for sure:)
Cooping the hens this evening under a cold, pouring rain was not very amusing, Roger.
I’m beginning to hate chickens, Steve. How did they fool me for so long:)
R A real and wonderful message; it cheered me up no end in this evil time of retail calender festivities – thank you ! D.
And thank you, Dick. Happy Christmas to you and Edina:)
Braver than I. I always go to the grocery care specialist 😉
Very wise, Rosemary:)
Great post, Roger. I needed a good laugh and you obliged. Thanks!
That scanner’s software company should be embarrassed. It’s a classic example of a development staff out of touch with the end-user.
Thanks for stopping by. It’s getting like Chaplin’s “Modern Times”:)
Since I definitely have as yet to become a ‘scanner whisperer’, but see busy people quickly manage their shop without standing in a Q like blessedly stupid me, what happens if you truly ‘forget’ to scan an item or three 🙂 ? How does the wretched thing know when to beep? [Just asking!!]
I think the Scottish detective then comes in to play:)
I ate an egg for dinner in your honor, Roger. Love the photo, and your story about the self-check scanners. I am a pox on them. I completely understand your frustration and dismay.
Incidentally, my former neighbor had chickens. The ones that survived the hawks and raccoons kept flying over the fence into our yard. It was a dreadful experience. Chickens are mean.
That is so funny, Andra. Trust you to have the eccentric answer to the chicken problem:)
You are one clever man Roger! It takes quite the gift to turn such a run-in with a malicious scanner into such a funny read! Thanks for more laughs. (Clever photo too!)
Nice to hear from you, Antoinette, and many thanks:)
Six times, six eggs. No Englishman-or woman- would have got that. What’s ‘Duh’ in French`? 😀
Sale fils de pute or something along those lines:)
Haha! That was fun 😉 apparently people can buy a single egg at your grocery store…how weird…Luckily you weren’t buy two dozen eggs 😉
I’ll remember that thought at Easter time:)
What a laugh and great photo to go with it. I avoid the scanners at all costs. It takes me longer to check myself out than to stand in a line as there is always a problem. Six times…how would anyone know!
The scanners seem such a good idea and then…..:)