Cash Register

At the Check Out

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This is one of my few pet peeves.

I am a privacy freak. In fact, before I began the blog, I had never done any type of social media. All those years without Facebook or Twitter or Instagram. I still don’t care about any of it. But I understand the concept. Social media for a blog is like a copier for a business. Just need it.

I am such a privacy fanatic that my daughter is embarrassed to go out shopping with me sometimes. She knows that when it comes time to making my way up to the cashier, what to expect. When the cashier asks for my name, e-mail address or telephone number, my response is ALWAYS the same. My daughter rolls her eyes because she knows what’s coming:  No, you may not have my name. No, I will not give you my e-mail address. You don’t need my phone number. Don’t you just want my money?

“Ma’am, we want this information so we can send you coupons and special offers.” But I don’t care. “We can look up your order faster (if you return the item) if we have your personal information in our computer.” I promise I won’t return the item.

“But don’t you really just want my money?”

My daughter apologizes for my responses to their questions. I don’t get it. What have I done wrong that warrants an apology? I chalk it up to my daughter’s age.

You know what? I never give up any information. They make the sale. I walk away with my trinkets. All of us are happy.

Is it just me, or do you think it’s gotten worse in the last 20 years or so with receipts and people annoying the crap out of you to spend your money as soon as you walk through the store?

“May I help you?”

“No, if I need your help, I’ll ask. And thank you for not staying next to me as I walk around your store.”

Receipts

And the receipts. Remember when they were a printout of what you bought? Now it’s what you bought, www.offersomething.com, chance to win, take a survey… the receipts are at least a foot long. Give me a break!

I have ZERO patience for this crap. I hate shopping as it is. Don’t bother me. Don’t “help” me. Don’t ask me for my personal information.

JUST LEAVE ME THE HECK ALONE.

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