Funny Happenings in Check-out Lines

One would think with the economic recession that checkout lines would be shorter.  The other day a lady at Wal-Mart asked, “Is it always this crowded?”  I giggled and told her it was the first of the month check time.  From Arkansas, she was spending a few days at Foscue Park in Demopolis.  I told her that when people came to Demopolis, a trip to Wal-Mart was a “must” and that she should have been at the Grand Opening.  The new Super Store guaranteed more products with fewer associates to check you out.

The other night I thought I had a clear shot to a speedy exit when I noticed that the 20 items of less line had two people in it.  I rushed for some puppy chow and quickly got in line.  The first lady had one item and the young man in front of me had two.  I miscalculated again.  For some reason, the plastic cash would not calculate.   

After this, I decided to write an article about my checkout experiences that I have logged.  They have become rather humorous.  I am always excited to see what novel process I will encounter.  The other day a lady paid her bill with 63 one-dollar bills.  It was so refreshing to see someone pay with cash.  It startled the cashier to see that many dollar bills that she miscounted, counting 62.  She counted again and got 61.  The lady paying counted them and got 62.  The cashier counted again and got 62.  I laughed to myself while trapped in the aisle between the two financial whizzes in front and one lady growing very impatient behind me.  I was ready to give the lady a dollar just to get out.

It is fun to watch paper jam in the receipt printer, checks jam in the thing-a-ma-jig that processes your payment, and have the ink run out when it fails to jam the paper or the checks.

One night I got behind a customer who had one or two items remaining.  I thought it must be my lucky night.  I hurried in the line only to watch a WIC check not process.  The customer had two buggies of items and all I could see was the cashier swiping all the items again.  The cashier flicked on the dreaded blinking light and waited for someone with higher powers than her and the WIC check to clear up the chaos.  It is total exasperation when the dreaded blinking light comes on for a price check and then the haggling and bartering between the omnipotent associate and the tenacious customer begins over the price posted on the shelve and the one attached on the item.

I witnessed a cashier walk off one night.  Another time the cashier would pick up an item, examine it, swipe it, examine it again, place it in a bag, and look at her watch.  Checkout was very slow, so I started a conversation.  She told me that she got off work in ten minutes and she did not want to check out another customer.

Customers can be rude.  One time as I waited a new line opened and the cashier motioned for me to come.  I was so excited and started over when suddenly a lady, with the precision and speed of a Talladega driver, darted in front of me.  Being kind, I let her go.  She did not even say thanks.  At Food World, a young girl broke in line ahead of me.  She had some unmentionable items, so I figured she needed to go in a hurry.  Before she checked out, another dude broke in front of me.  I gave him the patented “Hopper Look” and said, “It must be Break In Front Of Bobby Day!”  The patented Hopper Look is another story.

Late one night in The Demopolis Food World, the main computer system in Birmingham shut down all the computers to update.  Talk about chaos, it was mass confusion.  Lines were three to four deep.  The poor cashiers apologized, but people who are used to having it now get very restless when they have to wait.  It is the fear of total annihilation by fire from money burning in their pockets that causes the tension.

The best checkout was up home at the Clanton Wal-Mart.  I saw my wife’s dad’s first cousin’s daughter running a checkout line.  I told her I would talk when I got ready to leave.  Upon entering the checkout, she said, “Bobby Hopper, I can’t check you out because we’re kin.”

I responded by saying, “Jackie, we ain’t kin.”

As she swiped items, I put the product separator higgy-ma-dodgie thing between my items and the other customer.

Jackie said, “Bobby Hopper, you fool, I can’t check you out.”

Jackie flipped on the dreaded blinking light.  When the omnipotent associate arrived, she wanted to know what the problem was.  You guessed it.  I was.

Jackie said, “I told this fool I couldn’t check him out cause we’re kin.”

The wise associate said it was the policy of Wal-Mart not to check out relatives.  I told her that we were not related that Jackie was my father-in-law’s second cousin.

The omnipotent associate assured me that I was.  I asked the associate, “If I was considered kin to Jackie, how in the world did Wal-Mart checkout anyone in Chilton County.  Everyone is that close?” 

The light continued to blink as the all-knowing associate checked me out.  Each time I checkout I expect something to happen.  I ask the Lord what He is trying to teach me.  The anticipation of Christmas shopping checkout is exhilarating.

Teach me good judgment and knowledge (Psalm 119:66a KJV).

Stupid Time Change

The calendar was October but the day November 9, 2016.  I was nuking a sausage burrito as the words met my eyes, “Life is ten percent of what happens to you, and ninety percent is how we respond.”

It is amazing how God puts things in the right place, at the right time, for the right situation.  That calendar has been hanging in the office workroom for six weeks and I never paid it any attention until I responded to the suggestion of my stomach that there had been a time change and, although the clock said twelve noon, my hunger remained on central daylight savings time.

Speaking of time change, I have not responded to well.  I go to bed way to early which results in me waking way too early.  My response to the changing of the time is, “Leave it one way or the other.  Stop changing my eating, working, and sleeping habits twice a year.”

When I think about responding I think of some wisdom shared with me when I first answered the call into ministry.  It happened at Shocco Springs, our Alabama Baptist Retreat Center.  It was not at a conference believe me I have attended many through the years.  It was one of my former pastors, David Meyers.

David said that he was happy to hear that I had surrendered into the ministry.  He and his wife Janice were a wonderful pastor/wife team for my home church.  David was my pastor when I first married.  In fact, it was David’s sharing with us the importance of belonging to the church in the community in which you live.  He taught us that being a Christian was one of happiness and joy.  He was a great pastor.

At Shocco, he said, “As one of your dads in ministry, I want to share one thing with you.  He said you will be pressured by the church and members of the church to respond I certain situations.  Do not let them pressure you.  Tell them that you will make it a consideration of and prayer and genuinely pray over it.  You will be amazed how many times God will work out problems for you.  Learn to wait on God.  Pastors’ biggest mistakes are trying to fix things that only God can.  We get into trouble when do not wait on God.”  I am so thankful that my pastor shared this and I have practiced for my entire ministry, lately more than ever.

David and Janice have both gone to be with the Lord.  Since it is Thanksgiving, I wanted to respond with thanks for the wisdom of those help and pray for each other as we struggle through life.

 

Wait on the Lord: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the Lord (Psalm 27:14 KJV).

 

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

Thanks Dad

In one of my favorite pictures of my dad, he is leaning against a two by four board holding up the front porch.  Dad did not like to have his picture taken.  On this occasion, his brother was down from Illinois.  Dad had been hauling logs that day and had the smell of pine rosin and sweat mingled with the aroma of Camel cigarette smoke and grease on him.

In this picture, dad is tanned and muscled.  He was very strong from working with pulpwood and logs most of his life.  I, along with my brothers and sister, could not wait for dad to come home in the evenings.  We would spend many evenings lying on an old quit in the front yard just talking about life and looking at the heavens.

I remember that I could not wait to get old enough to go to work in the woods with him.  Back then, pulpwood was measured.  I carried a measuring stick and marked the fallen pine timber as dad cut.  He had a large, and heavy, McCulloch chainsaw.  As a ten-year-old, the chainsaw was very heavy.  It was all I could do to crank it.  When I could not, daddy would give the cord a yank and fire it up.  Ever once in a while, he let me run the chainsaw.  Most dads won’t let a ten-year-old run a chainsaw!  I had the best dad.

When hauling logs, dad allowed me guide the mule that pulled the logs back to the truck.  I was not sure I could do it, but dad said the mule knew what to do once I hooked the tongs to the log.  It was fascinating that the mule could find his way back to the truck.  I would jump on the log and balance myself as the log rolled, twisted, and turned going up and down the hills and hollers back to the truck.  It was even more fun to watch the side loading arms of the log truck throw the logs on the truck.  I don’t think momma would have let me go with daddy if she had known how dangerous it was.

I remember helping dad fall a giant oak.  He bated the tree and I helped to push.  Suddenly as the giant tree started to fall, a gush of wind caught the oak and pushed it back toward us.  Daddy yelled, “Run son!”

As a boy, I wanted to spend as much time with dad as I could.  Dad was what folks back home call a “jackleg mechanic.”  When you are poor and have nothing but junk, you spend a lot of time repairing.  Most of my time was spent under the hood or underneath cars, tractors, and trucks.  This is something I enjoy doing today.  It is therapeutic and nostalgic.

For some reason, dad went most places by himself.  On particular day, he was going to Montevallo to pick up his check.  Momma asked if I wanted to go.  I think she wanted me to spy on dad and see what he was doing.  I knew I had to keep my lips sealed if there was to be another expedition with dad.  I was so excited and could not wait to ride in our log truck with him.

As I went out the door, I closed the door on my fingers.  Doing the natural thing, I pulled them from the closed door, leaving one of my fingernails in the door.  Blood was flying and the finger was throbbing.  I was not going to miss an opportunity to spend time with dad.  I dare not cried.  He would have made me stay home.  I remember sitting alone for what seemed an eternity with my finger throbbing with the beating of my heart.  Dad wanted me to be tough.

Momma taught me how to drive, but daddy let me drive.  Dad went from logging to working in a rock plant.  Our family car became his work vehicle.  As usual, it needed repair another rear axle.  As we started to Bessemer to find a replacement, dad said, “You drive.”  I was twelve. 

On a long hill near Montevallo, I remember being scared to death as we descended.  I looked at dad and he seemed to have confidence in me.  That was until I kept riding too close to the outside of the highway.  Dad told me that there was more room to the inside and stop driving like momma. He said that we would have to have new tires and the front end realigned if I kept running off the road.  Driving in Bessemer was scary and exciting.  I had the time of my life, me driving my daddy.

In her book, Catching Fireflies, Patsy Clairmont says that she read somewhere that we get our role models from our same-sex parent and our sense of safety and security from our opposite same-sex parent.  I don’t know about all that, but I do know that I am glad I had a daddy that loved me and taught me much about life.  I know there are thousands of children that do not have a dad in their lives.  Society is paying a tremendous price for this.  This creates a negative view of God as our Father.  Those that have a nurturing and tender interaction with their dad helps in bonding with our heavenly Father.  Clairmont says that Deuteronomy 32:4, 9-10 gives us a glimpse God’s father-heart.

 

He is the Rock, his work is perfect: for all his ways are judgment: a God of truth and without iniquity, just and right is he.

For the Lord's portion is his people; Jacob is the lot of his inheritance. He found him in a desert land, and in the waste howling wilderness; he led him about, he instructed him, he kept him as the apple of his eye.

 

November is the time for Veteran’s Day and Thanksgiving.  Thanks dad!