I got to checkout, and there was one register open on that end of the store. It's a Great Store, and there were all of three others open, on the complete opposite side of the store (some twenty registers away, or about the length of a football field). The one on my side was ten item or less, and at a quick shuffle through my basket, that was about what I had, perhaps eleven if you counted that I had not one but two identical frozen pizzas, which I discovered only upon counting what was on the reciept, as I really did see only ten in the basket when I counted. I was parked and had done all my shopping on the single register side. I considered the options, and decided to wait behind four customers with small loads like mine, instead of huge loads and three or more customers per line at the other end, where I was pretty sure I wouldn't just have to walk, but stand longer, besides, because I pretty much felt qualifed and justified in doing so with what I had there. I was also at the point of leaning pretty heavily on my cart, so I will admit, had I known I had twelve, I may have pushed it, or more likely just put something back.
Did I mention that I have some mobility issues? Wheeze a bit? Leg full of pins with half a kneecap, and it was late, and I'd about had it for the day? I usually don't. but that's coming. I'm not an entitlebitch. I don't take massive items to the express. I CAN usually make it, so I don't get a handicapped permit, even though I fully medically qualify. I don't want to take a spot from someone who might be worse off, so I keep it from getting too tempting that way. I do have a limit, though.
After ringing me up halfway, and doing it wrong besides, the cashier tells me 'Next time, you can go to the other line.' Excuse me? We're not talking that I brought fifteen, twenty, or more items. I had something like ten, eleven tops, and not one of them big or unwieldy, either. Most admittedly had four, but COME THE HELL ON. I'd had to wait about fifteen minutes just for her to take her sweetass time, already, plus, there was only one person behind me, and they'd just gotten there.
I told her "I'm parked by this door, I shopped on this side, it looked like ten to me, and I have problems walking. Pins, plates, it hurts, and I've got breathing problems. I really should not have to walk for this."
"Well, you can still walk to that side."
I repeated, pretty much verbatim. She mumbled nastily, same general crap.
As she'd screwed up ringing me up without discounts on items, I did have to walk, and stand in yet another line. The manager was there. The manager did not think I was out of line with the number of items I had, or what I'd said. She did, however, think the cashier out of line.
I'd still like to know why there wasn't a single full-item register on that side, but I wasn't pushing it. The manager took the five bucks off the item she'd misrung, and I gimped and wheezed my way out. She was right. I COULD walk that. I just shouldn't bloody well have had to.