Gone Too Far

TW: Strong language.

I’m really not a bad person.

And truth be told, I think an argument could be made that I’m actually a better person than a lot of the people out there, but hey, I’m not going to make that call (though I would absolutely not disagree if someone else said it first).

So, why am I being held by the security of a Better Foods grocery store while they determine if they need to call the real po-po, or perhaps a psychiatrist?

It’s honestly not that big of a deal. But Jim, the security guard eyeing me like a mentally unstable lunatic, might disagree. And that is definitely his right. Just as it is my right to disagree with his disagreement.

I suppose I should just tell you what happened, so you can decide for yourself what you think of me. But I’m warning you: once I tell you, I think you’ll really understand why I did what I did. And then, you’d better really watch out, because if they think I’m crazy, they’re definitely going to think you’re crazy, too.

Here’s what happened:

I was waiting in line to pay for some broccoli and teriyaki chicken I grabbed from the hot bar – they have an excellent hot bar that I highly recommend checking out if you have not yet (just don’t go on Fridays; I am convinced the chef just gives up that day and checks out for the weekend because nothing is ever good on Friday).

Anyways, everything was fine. I was fine. The checker was fine; he seemed to actually be engaging with people, instead of just mind-numbingly scanning items without making any eye contact with anyone. Everything was peachy.

Then, it was my turn. I moved up in line, and greeted the cashier, “Hey there, how’s it going?”

“Pretty good, pretty good. How’re you doing, sir?”

“Oh, it’s going, it’s going. It’s a lovely day out there. We live in a beautiful place.” I nodded out towards the parking lot.

“We sure do,” the cashier agreed.

There was nothing wrong with our conversation, and I think this is where my story and the security guard’s story get a little wonky. You see, the cashier was a fine young man, nothing too special about him, but nothing too bad, either. And it wasn’t anything he did or said that made me upset.

He was giving me my total and handing back my hot bar punch card – every 11^th hot bar meal is free, just another reason why I highly recommend them – when I saw something next to the keypad that was flashing. And you know what, they do that on purpose, you know that, right? They make it all flashy like that so that you’ll look at it. And hey, I’m not immune to their tricks, no matter how hard I try, so, of course, I glanced over to see what it was.

At first sight, it looked just like another key pad, but one of the newer ones where you can just tap your credit card right onto it. They say it’s supposed to be quicker, easier, yadda yadda, whatever. I’m still getting used to the chip insert addition they made a few years back, but I know pretty soon here, they’re going to send me one of these new tapping cards, despite how I feel about them.

So, yeah, at first sight, I was thinking, this is just one of those fancy tapping card keypad things. But then, I saw something interesting. The flashing symbol was actually in the shape of a palm, as in a hand, and the words on the keypad said, “Pay By Palm.”

Pulling my eyebrows together, I tilted my head and stared at the darn thing, thinking, What in the hell.

And then, I actually said, “Uh, what in the hell is that thing?”

To which the cashier looked at me and smiled, saying, “Oh, that is our newest form of payment here at Better Foods! You can now use your palm to pay. All you have to do is pick a debit or credit card you’d like to use, and then you can scan your card and your palm, and we can link them –”

Woah. This was far too much for me. I could feel my face squinting up in disgust and horror. I was – and still am— absolutely dumbfounded. So, I said, “Are people actually into this?”

The cashier smiled shyly, and was about to respond, when the customer behind me – a man a decade or two younger than me – laughed and interjected, “Well, you’re not!”

I looked over at him, and still even now, I can’t determine if he was making fun of me or what the hell his unsolicited comment meant, but I know that it infuriated me. Almost as much as that stupid, futuristic, and intrusive machine that wanted to take my money right out of my palm.

And to be honest, I can’t say for sure, if it was this man’s comment that made me do what I did next, or if I would have done it anyway.

I smiled at the customer, then I looked at the cashier who was smiling nervously now – he could probably sense the way my energy had shifted – and I smiled at him, too. Then I grabbed the palm-reader with both of my hands and started pulling with all my might, yanking and twisting until I saw its wires pulling up out of the countertop. I yanked harder, and the thing detached. I threw it down hard on the floor, and it shattered.

I vaguely remember hearing someone – probably the jackass who the made the comment, because frankly, I don’t think the cashier has any balls – yelling, “Woah, man, chill out!”

But I did not listen. No, instead, I walked over to the next cashier’s aisle, and I found the palm-reader at their station. Pulled, yanked, twisted, and SMASH!

On my third one, I could hear someone on the intercom calling for security, but I couldn’t stop. I’m sick of these damn things. Always changing. Always becoming more and more invasive.

“What ever happened to good, old cash?!”

Pull, yank, twist, and SMASH!

“I was fine when they switched to cards. Okay, sure! More security! FINE!”

Pull, yank, twist, SMASH!

I could hear people in the store gasping, and the intercom echoing, calling for more security again. People were fleeing away from anywhere near me, as if I was going to hurt them.

These people really don’t get it. We can’t give into these things! I thought.

“Then, they wanted us to put our cards on our damn phones!”

Pull, yank, twist, SMASH!

“Now, they want us to use our bodies! Our own bare hands! Well, I say, ‘Fuuuuuuuck tha—!”

And, that is when I met Jim. The wonderful and very large Better Foods security guard who works every Tuesday through Saturday afternoon. He ran at me with such force that when he tackled me, we both went sliding eight feet down the checkout aisle directly into an endcap of canned soda pop.

So, you can imagine, we made quite a mess.

Which brings me to my point: this whole thing was actually not that big of a deal. The soda pop cans that cracked open and spewed out all over the place certainly made it seem worse. It’s not like I was out there waving a gun around at everyone – people actually do that! Nobody got hurt. Jim’s fine; all the customers are fine; the cashier is fine.

And I did pay for my hot bar lunch, did I mention that? With my card, which I inserted into their newish-old keypad. Yup, I did that before any of this drama even started. So, it’s not like I stole anything either. Isn’t that what’s really important here?

I mean, sure, I broke a few of their “palm-scanner” devices that apparently cost them a pretty penny to acquire and install. But it’s only because I was trying to stop them from going too far. That’s really what it comes down to. The banks, the technology companies, the government— whoever you want to blame, it doesn’t matter to me. It only matters to me that you get it: they’ve gone too far. You get that, don’t you? I had to do something.

So, you see, I’m not a bad person. And it wasn’t a big deal, because Jim decided they didn’t need to bring in the real po-po or some silly psychiatrist – probably because they realized they would have totally understood my side of the story. Instead, they let me go, with the promise that I would not come back to another Better Foods store again; that was the deal I made with them once we determined there was no way I could (or would) pay to replace their palm-scanners.

However, I’m assuming they meant after I get my free hot bar meal. You see, the day that I “violently destroyed their property” was actually my 10^th hot bar meal, and if you read the back of the punch card, it says, “Free Meal Guaranteed!” I figure, since the meal is free, what could really go wrong?