Eenie Meenie Minee Moe

I don't know what it is about me, but I seem to always pick 'That' checkout line at the supermarket. You know the line, the one that has the fewest people in it. The one that looks like it would be the most speedy. The one that after you are committed to standing there with your grocery cart, suddenly develops problems. A price check. The need for the pimply faced, kid cashier to call for a supervisor to ring up the liquor the guy in front of you is buying. Grandma paying by check, not even pulling it out of her purse to fill it out until the cashier rings up the total. That line. And don't tell me to just move over to the next line. Those are even longer now, yet somehow moving faster. I have had to wait while a customer paid with a WIC (Women, Infants, Children) voucher. The voucher is only good for some things, leaving the job of separating the beer, pretzels, and gummy bears from the order, up to the cashier. Friday it was a fat, slovenly, bearded, past middle age, white man who screwed things up. He loaded all his groceries on the belt, and as the cashier started scanning the purchases he informed her that some of it was going to be paid for with food stamps. So once again a cashier had to separate those items eligible to be paid by food stamps, from the beer, candy, crap food, and whatever else didn't qualify. Probably five minutes out of my life while I waited for fat ass to get checked out. 

Now I know that it would be considered bad form. I know that singling out those people who use food stamps, WIC, or like to pay for their groceries with a written check, would be considered mean spirited. It might stigmatize them. I don't care. Give the slow pokes their own checkout aisle. Let the most patient of cashiers check their groceries out, and give me my own checkout aisle too. The impatient, grumpy old man aisle. One where I can piss and moan about how slow everything is and nobody around me will care.