Checkout Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself

(I’m at the self-checkout at my usual grocery store. Due to a headache, I’m not feeling especially up for human interaction. The employee at the attendant station, a young man who might still be in high school, darts over and fusses over the plastic bags on the checkout machine.)

Employee: “I’ll just get these open for ya!”

(I’m a little annoyed, since I’ve got my own bags hanging off my arm, but he seems so enthusiastic. I hit the proper button on the screen, and have my first bag open on the bagging racks when the young man is suddenly standing on my other side, hitting the “done” button, and scuttling back to his station. I stare at him.)

Employee: “Oh, sorry!”

(He presses buttons on his screen as I try and tell my machine that I’ve got another bag.)

Checkout: “Place your bags on th– Please remove the la– Place your bags—”

(Thankfully, he left me alone after that!)