An Open Letter to the Smug, Self-Righteous, Middle-Aged, Hippie Woman Whose Liberal Arts College Education Did Not Include a Primer on the Proper Use of a Supermarket's Self-Checkout Machine

I'm sure you're really proud of yourself.

Acting all responsibly and earth-aware, you insist on using your own canvas shopping bags to pack your groceries, rather than those evil, destructive plastic shopping bags the rest of us unenlightened folks use to carry our freshly-acquired exploitative products. Obviously, the aforementioned bags need to be unfolded slowly, lovingly, lest their biodegradable feelings get injured.

Surely, each and every one of your well-thought-out purchases needs to be gazed upon, contemplatively, before you actually scan it. Simply purchasing things and paying for them hastily is so bourgeois.

I can't fault you for not noticing the massive line forming behind you as you spent about 10 minutes completing a task that takes the average tooth-deprived, inbred citizen of the supermarket's host township approximately 2 minutes to successfully complete. After all, one cannot be rushed when contemplating the plight of laboratory animals, and whether or not the shampoo you're purchasing (for someone else, obviously) played any part in their tragic suffering.    

Just know this, Planet Protector.

(1) When the machine beeps, it means that your product was scanned. There's no need to scan again for a second opinion. You were buying broccoli, not considering an invasive surgical procedure.

(2) As I glared at you throughout the entire duration of your check-out odyssey, I was releasing enough negative ions into the atmosphere to kill a dolphin that had been swimming off the coast of New Zealand. That one's on you, lady.