The Thing About Commissaries...

Military life is propelled by tradition.  And frequently, “tradition” is unspoken.

So, it took a hysterical Google search and a sympathetic eHow for me to realize why the commissary cashiers and baggers were glaring at me.  I had been hauling my bags to the car, like a kind citizen, sparing that sweet, elderly bag-person the trouble.

But, the kind eHow author explained: "Don't ever forget to TIP THE BAGGERS.  They work exclusively for tips.  It's considered very rude to handle your own bags, and then withhold a tip."

Oh. 

No one told me.

God bless eHow!

So, next time through the Idaho commissary, I spotted a tiny sign, affirming the eHow advice.  Well, sorta.  It actually said, "Baggers only work for tips."  Hum.  Is that really supposed to imply, "Oh, and by the way, tips are mandatory"?!

So, I watched and noticed others giving tips.  In fact, everyone did. 

Oh, I felt so rude!  So, I started peeling $1 from my wallet each time I shopped.  Even when I bought three items.  And it started affected our budget, adding $10-20 a month.  But, we couldn't figure out a way around it!

I finally realized you don't have to tip, if you go through self-checkout. Unfortunately, self-checkout rule vary.  Vastly.  Sometimes, there is a quantifiable amount of items that self-checkout will scan.  And they're not joking.  The machine won't work after Item #20.  COUNT CAREFULLY!  If you don't, all 21 of your items will be voided, and you WILL be sent to the mandatory-tipping line.

Also, self-checkouts can be tricky.  There’s one type with a conveyor-belt-thingie, which transports your goods from the scanning-table to the bagging-table.  And there’s a little laser sensor, located halfway, where two belts join - where food perpetually gets stuck, typically before it has passed the laser.  So, the machine shuts off, screaming (in beep-language) that you've stolen that bunch of now-smushed bananas!

Another hurdle is finding yourself in the correct line.  Picture a cattle shoot.  Or a ride at Disneyland (albeit much less clearly marked).  It's like that.  Hover in the wrong line momentarily, and you're out of luck for at least the next thirty minutes.

I did this once.  My error began when I bumped the lane divider, knocking it over.  Embarrassed, I started to set it back up, but a shrieking government employee was already flying towards me – so, I backed up.  Jabbering in aggitated Korean, she repaired the divider, then shooed me back into line. 

Unnerved, I manhandled my cart along the middle of the lane until suddenly, I was passing by self-checkout.  Noooo!  I tried to veer under the divider, but shrieking lady charged back towards me and I retreated impulsively.

There was no escape.  It was a miserable lesson.  I handed over my tip, defeated.

I even let the bagger escort me to my car.  And I forced a grin, and let myself hope that my tip would somehow make her day, tho’ apparently everyone else in the military also gives her a dollar, too.

... well, everyone except us self-checkout fiends.

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“A man should never be ashamed to own he has been in the wrong, which is but saying that he is wiser today than he was yesterday.” – Alexander Pope