The Case For Handbag Coyotes

I'm generally a good-natured person who isn't bothered by all that much. And I don't want this blog to be a litany of complaints about life, because who wants to hear someone complain all the time? Unless the complainer is Andy Rooney, I don't, and most likely, neither do you.

On the other hand, there's something quite satisfying about zeroing in on a pet peeve that people will read and say "Yeah! That happens to me all the time, and I hate it!".

OK, here's today's life lesson: When you get to the cash register, you need to pay.

Yes, I can hear you saying, "What is this crap? I'm off to another blog!" But wait ..

I don't much like waiting in line, but I can handle it if all parties involved are doing their best to move things along. What drives me absolutely berserk, however, is when someone gets to the register, is told how much their purchase is, and THEN AND ONLY THEN do they make the first slow, leisurely move towards getting their money or their credit cards out. If I didn't know better, I'd think the fact that they have to pay is a complete and total surprise.

What, you ask, has this to do with handbag coyotes?

This stems from an absolutely brilliant Dilbert comic strip I saw years ago. I'm working strictly from memory here, but Dilbert is on line at the grocery store in a similar situation. The woman in front of him takes out her handbag, and starts digging through and taking a few dozen things out, and then finally finds what she's looking for: a third party check from the bank of Yemen that she'd like to use to pay for her purchase. She reaches back into her bag and is pulled inside it by what appears to be the arm of a ferocious animal and completely disappears. The checkout clerk nods knowingly and says "Hmmm. Handbag coyotes."

I don't REALLY wish anyone the fate of being devoured by a handbag coyote, but for a fictional conclusion, it was quite satisfying.

At CNBC, our cafeteria has a wonderful system called FreedomPay. You take out this little swipey keychain thing with a bar code, swipe it, and you're done. The money comes out of your checking account or a credit card. Maddeningly enough, not everyone uses it. The people who don't use it, for some inexplicable reason, are always the ones in front of me in the cafeteria line.

Listen, I know you can't help it if the checkout person stares at the register as if it were a complex air traffic control system, but please, do your part. Have your money ready. Pay. And get out of the way!