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Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Self Checkouts.
Need a competency test prior to using.
Yesterday I go to my follow up with the oral surgeon, in his hot Russian way he irrigates the still enourmous holes in my mouth. Tells me it looks good and with smirk sends me on my way.
This is during lunch at work so I'm hungry.
Interior; Shaws; Porter Square.
Marie Calendars $2.50 I can dig it. Scary bearded man hovering by vegetables (not so much) Checkout time.
Off to the self checkout isle...there are 6, 6 I tell you, registers that one can independently check out with out the hassle of human interaction that Bostonians so fear and loathe. One problem these people neither know how to wait in line or following a bellowing voice matched with on screen instructions I would think a toddler could figure out, god Vsmart is harder than this.
I stand there weighing my options...do I go to the girl at aisle 4 who is staring longingly at the people fumbling with self-checkout hoping the machines don't make her mastery in scanning obsolete...or do I stay in my asocial Boston bubble and just yell at them in my mind until they figure the damn thing out.
I chose the latter.
After much intervention including 3 associates it is my turn.
Scan Shaw's card
scan item 1
scan item 2
click debit no cash
slide card
enter pin
take receipt
leave.
You see people it is not that difficult.
Yesterday I go to my follow up with the oral surgeon, in his hot Russian way he irrigates the still enourmous holes in my mouth. Tells me it looks good and with smirk sends me on my way.
This is during lunch at work so I'm hungry.
Interior; Shaws; Porter Square.
Marie Calendars $2.50 I can dig it. Scary bearded man hovering by vegetables (not so much) Checkout time.
Off to the self checkout isle...there are 6, 6 I tell you, registers that one can independently check out with out the hassle of human interaction that Bostonians so fear and loathe. One problem these people neither know how to wait in line or following a bellowing voice matched with on screen instructions I would think a toddler could figure out, god Vsmart is harder than this.
I stand there weighing my options...do I go to the girl at aisle 4 who is staring longingly at the people fumbling with self-checkout hoping the machines don't make her mastery in scanning obsolete...or do I stay in my asocial Boston bubble and just yell at them in my mind until they figure the damn thing out.
I chose the latter.
After much intervention including 3 associates it is my turn.
Scan Shaw's card
scan item 1
scan item 2
click debit no cash
slide card
enter pin
take receipt
leave.
You see people it is not that difficult.
Wisdom Teeth.
It has been one week since the extraction of my wisdom teeth, an experience way too filled with anxiety. Leading up I wallowed and paced wondering what was going to happen...my heart raced and I would feel dizzy just thinking of it. Alas it was all for nothing. I go and meet my Russian oral surgeon.
Side Note: There is something about Russian men that when they talk you believe everything they say. HOT.
Strap on the nitrous fill me with novocaine and start crunching. I listened to Architecture of Helsinki on my iPod while drills whirled and teeth crunched. I wish I could have recorded the experience just in audio form it was sort of surreal. After only a half hours time I am released into the wild with a numb mouth and bleeding holes in my head.
My friend Kimmy comes to pick me up...in the meantime I go to attempt to obtain my prescription pain killers. The feeling of your lips being bigger than Angelina Jolie's after collogen and the inability to speak make it difficult to get your point across. Through a serious of mumbles, hand gestures and multiple forms of ID I place my order.
I stand outside for 15 minutes waiting, bored, attempting to hide what I think my face looks like. The moment of truth, picking up the prescription. This may sound mean but it is not intended that way. The woman who was filling my order I believe was hard of hearing. I don't think she heard me say I had my wisdom teeth out...that being said.
I say my name, i sound a little slow....she responds and sounds just like me. So just imagine what's going on in her mind while I'm trying to speak properly and she has never been able to. Definately my Seinfeld moment for the day. At least she didn't replace my percocet with viagra or estrogen.
All in all it was nothing...I ate a ton of soup had two days off of work and experienced NO bruising or swelling that anyone saw...I am still left with two gaping holes though that store food like a chipmunk. When I "irrigate" as the surgeon put it entire pieces of broccoli appear like I'm David Blane or something. I want to make a photo diary of irrigation...I could be new and modern or some shit.
Side Note: There is something about Russian men that when they talk you believe everything they say. HOT.
Strap on the nitrous fill me with novocaine and start crunching. I listened to Architecture of Helsinki on my iPod while drills whirled and teeth crunched. I wish I could have recorded the experience just in audio form it was sort of surreal. After only a half hours time I am released into the wild with a numb mouth and bleeding holes in my head.
My friend Kimmy comes to pick me up...in the meantime I go to attempt to obtain my prescription pain killers. The feeling of your lips being bigger than Angelina Jolie's after collogen and the inability to speak make it difficult to get your point across. Through a serious of mumbles, hand gestures and multiple forms of ID I place my order.
I stand outside for 15 minutes waiting, bored, attempting to hide what I think my face looks like. The moment of truth, picking up the prescription. This may sound mean but it is not intended that way. The woman who was filling my order I believe was hard of hearing. I don't think she heard me say I had my wisdom teeth out...that being said.
I say my name, i sound a little slow....she responds and sounds just like me. So just imagine what's going on in her mind while I'm trying to speak properly and she has never been able to. Definately my Seinfeld moment for the day. At least she didn't replace my percocet with viagra or estrogen.
All in all it was nothing...I ate a ton of soup had two days off of work and experienced NO bruising or swelling that anyone saw...I am still left with two gaping holes though that store food like a chipmunk. When I "irrigate" as the surgeon put it entire pieces of broccoli appear like I'm David Blane or something. I want to make a photo diary of irrigation...I could be new and modern or some shit.
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