44 thoughts on “Service Journamalism @ NYT: “Experts” on How to Pick Fastest Supermarket Checkout Line”
It takes an expert to come up with brilliant advice like this:
A. J. Marsden, an assistant professor of human services and psychology at Beacon College in Leesburg, Fla., suggested checking to see if a cashier was talkative and commenting on every item being scanned. If so, avoid this line “unless there is no one in that line, in which case, just deal with the chatty cashier,” she said in an email.
Also too: I read that when they opened a Trader Joe in Manhattan, it was so crowded that people just grabbed a cart and got in the checkout line as they entered the store, and shopped as it snaked through every aisle. Fun!
Well, OK. I was willing to get into a horse-trade scenario, but I guess I will stick with the pony I have. But, if you ever need a consult on checkout line selection, put me on your speed dial.
Wise. Spousal upgrades are always expensive, complicated and painful.
At least in my experience.
I have an old Time/Life book called "The Cooking of Provincial France." It's from the early 1960s. There's a photo essay in it of a Parisian housewife going grocery shopping at a street market, buying fish from guys in berets, then cooking in her Parisian apartment kitchen, eating with her family, and then going to the family's weekend home and doing the same thing. I SO wanted to be her, buying radishes in high heels wearing a hairband and a Grace Kelly bag.
Also too that book was written by M.F.K. Fisher and the recipes were by Julia Child before she was super famous.
I have near-zero interest in cookbooks but M F K Fisher was such a fine writer that I got sucked into every one of her things that appeared in The New Yorker.
Also the writing in the original (Rombauer/Becker) Joy of Cooking was very good, come to think of it.
So true. She's in a class by herself. Her Gastronomical Me and How to Cook a Wolf were comforting through a difficult time. They're about so much more than cooking while always presenting as being entirely about cooking. The part in Gastronomical Me where she's in Mexico and her husband died and she flew in on a plane in a storm and is eating burritos with the airport workers in the kitchen during the storm and she says, "I think that was the first meal that truly fed me." I just bawled.
I'm welling up now. Beautiful-sad.
I have a huge collection of cookbooks, including the original Mastering the Art of French Cooking, which had been my mother's. She said it changed her life, and I believe it really did, her having grown up in a lower-middle class Irish-American household where haute cuisine was slightly less mushy boiled than everyday boiled beans and cabbage. But I do not have anything by M F K Fisher, and now I have some things to add to the wish list.
We have a killer French place in Berkeley that recently had a week long celebration of Julia's birthday. I need a foodie for a roomie
She spent a lot of time in France. The linky isn't working but you can Wikipedia it. A lot of her stories are about France.
How to be that annoying, entitled person in the checkout line
Do you mind if I go ahead of you? I only have 15 things, three questions to ask, something to return, and several coupons. Also I'll pay by check, but I won't even begin looking for my checkbook until the entire transaction is rung up. And do you happen to have a pen?
"Do you mind if I go ahead of you? Because even though I obviously live in your neighborhood, my special snowflake life is more significant than yours and I need to pay for my Fruit Loops, Dos Equis and disposable razors three minutes sooner than you need to pay for your deli counter chicken."
I don't understand when check out people comment on what people buy. It's awkward and odd.
On the other hand, there was a guy who used to work at the post office who had the most hilarious one-liners. Once I asked if he would stamp my package as "fragile," he nodded and said, "I'll be sure to put it through the smasher."
The summer I worked as a sorter at UPS, we were told that Fragile meant "made of steel" in Swahili.
You two had a hilarious sub thread here.
"When I was a teenager, my natural grocery bagging skills were so off the chart that I constantly found myself at the flash point between management and labor at my local Stop&Shop"
That's the difference between the United States Postal Service, an enterprise entirely owned by and run for the benefit of the people, and those brown guys, who are something different: USPS people (of whom I used to be one) are much snarkier.
I don't see any difference. They're all union thugs, right?
I cherish those who sigh loudly, shake their heads, and mumble. I want to say "I know! I'm so glad we don't live in Venezuela where you can't buy anything!".
Beware people with a fist full of store coupons; they're bound to have gotten the wrong size or number for the discount and will end up arguing with the cashier. Who will probably say "Oh, no problem. X here will run and get you the correct item." X being the most worthless bagger in the store who will slowly walk to get the item, which will be in the furthermost corner of the store.
Also avoid the morning hours of 9 to 11. That's when the elderly shop, noted for turning their cart sideways at the start of an aisle and staring down it, waiting for their product to leap off the shelf and beckon them.
Children between 3 and 6 are to be avoided as they are transfixed at the candy display next to the cashier, placed there by the Nazi store management.
I find 5 in the afternoon to be a good time as everyone shopping generally is stopping by only for a few items. Always stand in the line of older men, as they are buying frozen dinners, alcohol, and little else. Like I do.
1. Pick any line.
2. Say, fearfully, "No. Ohno. Not here!"
3. Cough. Gag. Begin to retch loudly.
4. Move up to checkout after everyone scatters wildly.
5. Say "False alarm. Sorry!"
6. Check out.
It takes an expert to come up with brilliant advice like this:
Also too: I read that when they opened a Trader Joe in Manhattan, it was so crowded that people just grabbed a cart and got in the checkout line as they entered the store, and shopped as it snaked through every aisle. Fun!
one time, long ago on xmas eve in Best Buy, the checkout line was growing faster than I could walk to the end of it, so I had to run.
Even if they open a register just for me, I would bet money that it's still the wrong line. Never get in line behind me, I'm just bad luck.
[Also]
that's just not a good affirmation!
I am a terrible shopper, and that is where I'm going in a few minutes.
What, they couldn't come up with a new way to slander Hillary Clinton?
Pretty sure the whole long-checkout-line phenomenon casts an ominous shadow over the Clinton campaign. There are many unanswered questions.
Or, bring your smartphone and plan to catch up on the news while standing in line. Works for me.
Read Sunset magazine.
Notice that the supermarket magazines and tabloids have not changed their stories, just the people in them.
My trick: ask the husband which line to use, then use the one that's not the one he picked. He really has terrible checkout line instincts.
So he is me, is what you're saying?
Woah! Alternate universes collide.
But I don't speak French, so you're better off keeping the one you have.
Well, OK. I was willing to get into a horse-trade scenario, but I guess I will stick with the pony I have. But, if you ever need a consult on checkout line selection, put me on your speed dial.
Wise. Spousal upgrades are always expensive, complicated and painful.
At least in my experience.
I have an old Time/Life book called "The Cooking of Provincial France." It's from the early 1960s. There's a photo essay in it of a Parisian housewife going grocery shopping at a street market, buying fish from guys in berets, then cooking in her Parisian apartment kitchen, eating with her family, and then going to the family's weekend home and doing the same thing. I SO wanted to be her, buying radishes in high heels wearing a hairband and a Grace Kelly bag.
Also too that book was written by M.F.K. Fisher and the recipes were by Julia Child before she was super famous.
I have near-zero interest in cookbooks but M F K Fisher was such a fine writer that I got sucked into every one of her things that appeared in The New Yorker.
Also the writing in the original (Rombauer/Becker) Joy of Cooking was very good, come to think of it.
So true. She's in a class by herself. Her Gastronomical Me and How to Cook a Wolf were comforting through a difficult time. They're about so much more than cooking while always presenting as being entirely about cooking. The part in Gastronomical Me where she's in Mexico and her husband died and she flew in on a plane in a storm and is eating burritos with the airport workers in the kitchen during the storm and she says, "I think that was the first meal that truly fed me." I just bawled.
I'm welling up now. Beautiful-sad.
I have a huge collection of cookbooks, including the original Mastering the Art of French Cooking, which had been my mother's. She said it changed her life, and I believe it really did, her having grown up in a lower-middle class Irish-American household where haute cuisine was slightly less mushy boiled than everyday boiled beans and cabbage. But I do not have anything by M F K Fisher, and now I have some things to add to the wish list.
We have a killer French place in Berkeley that recently had a week long celebration of Julia's birthday. I need a foodie for a roomie
She spent a lot of time in France. The linky isn't working but you can Wikipedia it. A lot of her stories are about France.
How to be that annoying, entitled person in the checkout line
Do you mind if I go ahead of you? I only have 15 things, three questions to ask, something to return, and several coupons. Also I'll pay by check, but I won't even begin looking for my checkbook until the entire transaction is rung up. And do you happen to have a pen?
"Do you mind if I go ahead of you? Because even though I obviously live in your neighborhood, my special snowflake life is more significant than yours and I need to pay for my Fruit Loops, Dos Equis and disposable razors three minutes sooner than you need to pay for your deli counter chicken."
Wow, so judgmental!
Haha, me too. Hate it when the store clerk comments on my occasional purchases of All-Bran and The Glenlivet.
I don't understand when check out people comment on what people buy. It's awkward and odd.
On the other hand, there was a guy who used to work at the post office who had the most hilarious one-liners. Once I asked if he would stamp my package as "fragile," he nodded and said, "I'll be sure to put it through the smasher."
The summer I worked as a sorter at UPS, we were told that Fragile meant "made of steel" in Swahili.
You two had a hilarious sub thread here.
"When I was a teenager, my natural grocery bagging skills were so off the chart that I constantly found myself at the flash point between management and labor at my local Stop&Shop"
That's the difference between the United States Postal Service, an enterprise entirely owned by and run for the benefit of the people, and those brown guys, who are something different: USPS people (of whom I used to be one) are much snarkier.
I don't see any difference. They're all union thugs, right?
I thought UPS paid better.
Teamsters. Half your union dues go to buy |resorts in San Diego.|
Paying by check. Why not save time and chisel stone tablets?
I cherish those who sigh loudly, shake their heads, and mumble. I want to say "I know! I'm so glad we don't live in Venezuela where you can't buy anything!".
"…founder of Same Ole Line Dudes, a New York-based service that will stand in line for you"
I should have known this was a thing that existed, and yet I didn't, until now.
Get in line!
Always go fewest items. (Radio advice — scientifically proven.)
Beware people with a fist full of store coupons; they're bound to have gotten the wrong size or number for the discount and will end up arguing with the cashier. Who will probably say "Oh, no problem. X here will run and get you the correct item." X being the most worthless bagger in the store who will slowly walk to get the item, which will be in the furthermost corner of the store.
Also avoid the morning hours of 9 to 11. That's when the elderly shop, noted for turning their cart sideways at the start of an aisle and staring down it, waiting for their product to leap off the shelf and beckon them.
Children between 3 and 6 are to be avoided as they are transfixed at the candy display next to the cashier, placed there by the Nazi store management.
I find 5 in the afternoon to be a good time as everyone shopping generally is stopping by only for a few items. Always stand in the line of older men, as they are buying frozen dinners, alcohol, and little else. Like I do.
Sounds like a good plan, or, get behind the cutest person in line, and whatever time you're there will seem to fly by.
1. Pick any line.
2. Say, fearfully, "No. Ohno. Not here!"
3. Cough. Gag. Begin to retch loudly.
4. Move up to checkout after everyone scatters wildly.
5. Say "False alarm. Sorry!"
6. Check out.
The faux-*oukes* solution. Elitist NY Times fails again.
Posers.
You mean the Democratic Party, right?
not an organized group, so, yes