Staples: that was easy?

I walked towards the entrance, prepared for a quick shopping spree in Staples, not a Lewis and Clark expedition. When I reached the sliding doors, I knew something was wrong. Almost smashing into the glass was my first clue. The store manager on the other side was frantically waving his hands and mouthing something to me. I looked over my shoulder for a rabid dog, a high-speed chase, something, anything! Nothing. What was going on here?
Finally, he pried the doors open and I was free to enter. Well, not really. The manager informed me that the power was out in the entire plaza and then asked if there was anything in particular I was shopping for? I happened to have a list from my boss, so I rattled off the items, assuming he’d put them on hold and I could come back for them tomorrow. I didn’t escape that easily. Instead, he ordered me to stand in the entrance until an associate could come help me.
A very nice man with a Jamaican accent hurried over, armed with a shopping basket and a flashlight. I still hadn’t put 2 and 2 together, so I showed him my list and we made our way toward the dark aisles. We had no trouble locating the first two items, but neither of us had any idea where to locate exacto knife blades. Just as I was about to give up on our little treasure hunt, the associate paused, looked me over for a moment, took a deep breath (was he praying?), then ran off to find help. Why was he so panicked? Then it hit me. No power = no security alarm and no security cameras.
They thought I was going to steal something! No wonder I was being guided around as if I’d never seen the inside of Staples before. I stayed where I was, in the dark, fearing that I’d somehow be punished for moving to another aisle. Or worse, that the nice associate (who was currently sprinting around on my behalf) would get in deep trouble. I was relieved to finally see a wobbling light round the corner and guide me to the front of the store. At last, I’m free! I thought. Then I saw the check-out line. Another light bulb went off in my head. No power = no cash register.
There we were, at the front of the store, a dim glow from the windows casting just enough light for the lone associate at the check-out counter to hand write all the item names, their numbers, and then (finally!) to add up the subtotal, the tax, and the final bill for each person in line. Where was the easy button when you really needed it? I cursed myself for walking into that store, for assuming that if they let me in, the power surely would come back on soon and that there really wasn’t a problem. Ha!
I crept closer and closer to the front of the line, mesmerized by the transaction process in front of me. I was amazed at the sales pad, the old-fashioned credit card swiper, and the handwritten, carbon-copied receipts. Eventually, my items were totaled, my boss’s business visa was swiped, and I had everything I needed to take back to work. Of course, I almost left the store with the credit card still in the bulky metal swiper, but who’s counting?
As I walked out of the store with my yellow receipt and office supplies, I was so grateful for today’s check-out terminals that I could have kissed one. Every once in a while, something like this happens that makes you realize that computers haven’t been around since the dawn of man, that we live in an extremely convenient, fast-paced time. I could not imagine running errands where standing in such lines was an ordinary event, a part of life that has to be tolerated. Who could ever have the patience for this? Our society hangs by a fragile power cord that threatens to come unplugged. We swipe credit cards and absent-mindedly sign electronic signatures without a second thought about the amazing technology that makes our lives that much easier. It is overlooked conveniences like these that we should all be thankful for.

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