WE ARE a nation of do-it-
We light our own fireworks. We grill our own hot dogs. We brew our own beer.
We prize the independent spirit. Go forth, young man, with your power tools and plywood and build yourself a patio.
Go forth, young pioneer, with needle and thread and reattach the limb that was accidentally lopped off during the construction of said patio.
In celebration of that kind of irrepressible self-reliance, American retailers have introduced the ultimate in independence technology: the self-checkout.
Theoretically, your independent-minded shopper, after subduing her shrieking children and stuffing them in the shopping cart with the ephedrine, the oat bran and a few cans of Fix-A-Flat, should be able to ring up her own purchases and pay for them, leaving the store exuding self-confidence.
Properly harnessed, the self-checkout, much like nuclear energy, is a powerful resource for good.
In the wrong hands, however, it's downright dangerous.
Some folks are simply not cut out for the strain caused by having to drag a bag of lettuce over a scanner.
Most of these folks are also blissfully unaware of their own shortcomings, right up to the moment they pull a brimming cart up to the self-checkout and begin frantically waving canned goods at the computer screen.
To prevent that sort of mishap, I'd like to propose a screening process. Right now, any over-confident shopper can stroll up to the self-checkout and start pushing buttons, inflicting a long and arduous wait on those in line behind them.
Perhaps the device could administer a short quiz first before agreeing to ring up items, thereby setting a kind of minimum standard:
Have you ever successfully programmed the clock on your VCR?
Can you operate a push-button telephone?
Are you now, or have you ever been, a South Florida voter?
Those who fail the quiz must wheel their cart to a supervised station, where a highly trained professional will add up their bill while complaining about having to work until closing.
Those who answer correctly may proceed to the self-checkout, where a greater test of will awaits. You see, operating the machinery often comes with its own set of complications.
On a recent grocery trip, I watched a woman struggle to scan her watermelon.
The thing is, watermelons aren't grown with bar codes.
After a few minutes, an employee walked over and informed her that she needed to punch in a four-digit code so the self-checkout could recognize, weigh and then ring up the fruit.
The woman was asked to surrender her Mensa card upon exit.
Then, there's the highly sensitive "bagging area."
You are required, under U.S. bagging code section 965.448-3, paragraph A, subparagraph 2 to bag each item immediately after you've scanned it. Immediately.
If you don't, the self-checkout assumes a black hole has opened on aisle No. 2 and your precious package of tortellini has been sucked into oblivion.
It panics and aborts the mission, forcing another highly trained professional to come over and push the reset button, completely undermining your independence.
Similarly, if the bagging area detects too many items, the self-checkout springs into enforcer mode.
On a recent visit to Wal-Mart, the woman in front of me managed to correctly scan a shirt, but she committed a fatal error by placing the shirt in the bag, followed by the hanger.
The self-checkout, assuming the woman was trying to make off with something of value, simply ceased to cooperate. UNEXPECTED ITEM IN BAGGING AREA, it announced repeatedly.
"C'mon," the woman pleaded. "Work with me."
She was last spotted heading for a "black prison" in Romania.
If you manage to scan and bag everything correctly, the final hurdle is paying for your purchases.
In this area, the self-checkout is a tad too permissive, offering no fewer than 9,000 payment options, among them rubles, sheep and beaver pelts.
If you're the guy who gets stuck behind the shopper feeding pemmican into the self-checkout, the wait gets old.
It's best if the self checker-outer exercises self-control. Debit or credit ought to suffice.
To reach EDIE GROSS:
Email: egross@freelancestar.com