Okay, I noticed it happening about 5-7 years ago. I went to a restaurant. It was a nice kinda place. I was smiling and drinking my Kir. I must admit, sometimes it makes me uncomfortable to get that weird, over-the-top service. Then, when my meal was as done as it was going to be, I asked to have it "packed up." The smarmy little snippet, who had practically spooned my meal into my mouth said, "Sure!!" and then walked away without my plate. Huh? She came back, dumped a styrofoam clam shell on the table and said, "Here you are!" WHAT? "Well, huh. I guess this is what they do here," I thought. No, no, friends, this is our inevitable fate. No more pack-up service for you!
Then, I noticed that my grocery store started letting go of baggers. I had to put my own stuff on the friggin' belt of consumerism, run down to the end of the thing (so a dangerous pile-up wouldn't happen - you never come back from those) and bag my own stuff.
I tried to channel my favorite bagger, Sean X (I swear), a man with Downs Syndrome who was a savante at bagging. I built "the wall" as Sean called it - boxes on the two ends of the bag, other stuff in between the boxes. I have theme bags: "produce,""pantry" and "depression." [ That last one is chocolate, ice cream, Tylenol PM, and any kind of liquor your store will sell you - cooking wine, cabernet, Colt 45.]
Then, they started the "self-service" check out. Not only do I (and you) have to place and bag our own stuff, NOW we have to learn how to use the laser-beamed eye to scan it. I remember when those first started showing up in grocery stores. It was all about how it would make our experience better. I swear to [your God here] it never fails to ring up a bag of peas that I never buy. There is one, really ticked-off cashier in the center, rolling their eyes each time I have the "item removed from bagging area" message...and I have that one a lot.
Then, and this is the moment of shocking, shocking horror, I was asked to participate in my own uterine ultrasound. Shudder. Okay, not bad enough that you sexualize the whole thing by putting a creepy condom on it, NOW I have to "place" it? Why don't I do the magical button pushing, interpret the results, and consult with myself, too?
Okay, I don't wanna hear any complaining about those weird Mongolian or Korean restaurants in which you cook your own food on your table. You asked for that going in. I'm just saying that it seems as though we're all headed down a path that puts more on us. Do we all gain a few new skills? Sure. I love to race the person next to me at the self-serve checkout, narrowing my eyes, smirking and nodding to them, knowingly, as if to say, "Oh yeah, I'm scanmaster!" I enjoy surprisingly my server with an old school leftovers foil swan (now a lost art). "See? See what I can do, now that you won't?" When I get an ultrasound now, I run the scanner over my belly, squirting jelly everywhere, waving the wand of terror like a weapon (not sure that's an actual gained skill, but still, there is a power shift).
I do feel that my skills make me a contributing member of society. (Although my new skills probably mean that someone is now unemployed and NOT contributing, so maybe that doesn't compute.) I'm just scared that we are all going to have to use forklifts to stock the cabinets that we shop from, before we place the items on the belt, from which we scan and bag them. I'm frightened that, soon, I'll have to do my own dental work, paying for the use of their tools or give myself a mammogram (don't think the self breast exam isn't part of this - its a gateway service).
[One thing that I would like to remind all those who are asking more of me: do NOT expect the same level of reverence that I had for you previously. If I can do what you do, then we're peers. Further, I would like you to lower your prices and rates. If I help, I should get paid.]
Alright, I'm done. See you on the throne - that I will be fixing, sitting in and photographing for the press.
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