We’re getting what we deserve. Our punishment, much-deserved, is being forced to operate churlish and humorless machines to scan and bag our own stuff.

Our crime is this. We have forgotten the standard, mother-approved way to ask for something: “Maybe I have a pound of your medium-hot Italian red-hots please.” Notice how it acknowledges that human being on the other side of the counter and ends with “please?” What’s so hard about that?

My beautiful wife and I were at one of those Ron of Japan type places where the chef-performer guy cuts, sautés and juggles food in front a gawking group. Here’s how people ordered, this is verbatim:

Man: “Can I get the sirloin-shrimp combination?” [3 dbs on the douche-bag scale]

Woman: “I’m going to do the chicken.” [4 dbs]

Woman: “I need you to give me the salmon.” [5 dbs – appropriate, but only if you’re pulling a shift on a cell block]

It’s obvious the machines are guilty of something bad too because they’re being punished as well. They’ve been condemned, to work with us.