Staple diet

A $5 voucher from Staples represents a powerful inducement to shop. At least it does at this stage of my writing career. Three reporters note pads, a whole pack of pens, five blank CD’s, the possibilities are endless. Couple this with another voucher, delivered courtesy of an email inducement, for a free 5 pack of multi-colored gel pens and I made it a point to shop at the Mall, which has a new Staples store.
My mission was simple. Come out with the pens, $5’s worth of other goods and not be tempted into buying anything else.
Within two minutes of entering this Aladdin’s cave of the business, art and school worlds I was sucked in by the video presentation of a Lexmark five-in-one printer, scanner, fax copier, pictbridge (print direct from a compatible digital camera), color, black and white, multi-sheet feeder block of solid grey plastic; only $99.98 after easy rebates of $50. Mmm… multi-sheet scanning, just what my wife needs for all her MBA notes, currently stacked and taking up valuable mystery novel space on the bookshelf. Yeah, I could sell that. A fax too; just what I need to deal with all those highly anticipated book contracts that will need signing urgently to prevent a logjam in cyberspace. Wait. A danger sign. It doesn’t say it uses the feeder for scanning and there’s a big pile of inkjet cartridges on sale at two for $39.99, yielding 200 pages each.
Ok, peace. I have four perfectly fine not-in-ones; laser printer (toner cartridge $59 for 2500 pages), photo printer, scanner (which doubles as a copier) and I can always leave the mystery books piled up on the floor as they have been since January, waiting for some loving attention.
But I could use a new memory card for my camera. It would save me taking my laptop on the plane for downloading the hundreds of pictures I will take of Lake Tahoe, Yosemite, Kings Canyon and Sierra Nevada National Parks. $49 for a gigabyte is a bargain, but that’s for the slow speed version. Ah, this one. $69 for a high speed version. Okay, discipline is required in taking pictures and in spending, find the pens, find something for a $5 and get out.
Pens. Pens, so many pens, but none of the free ones. What a con. What else can I buy? Oh, there they are; $3.99 a pack. The advert said $5.99, but Ok, free is free. Just add some special pens for marking backup DVD's and CD’s for $4.99 and we’re off to the cash desk.
“How is it you are doing?” says the woman behind the desk.
"Fine, thanks and you?"
She scans the first item, my free pens and bags them and then the second item. I hand her the free pens coupon and she starts to read it.
“For what is this?”
“Pens, gel pens.”
She picks up the CD marking pens, rescans them and scans the coupon. The scanner does not work.
“Oh is not working,” she says eying the line of six people behind me.
“No for the gel pens,” I explain. “Here, look, sonix gel pens.”
“Is out of date”
“No, it says that the offer is good until 31/8/2006.”
She picks up the gel pens.
“Ah, these.”
The scanner is not working. Eight people shuffle their feet like a centipede whose Valium is wearing off. I imagine I hear a sigh.
“I type number,” the woman says and proceeds to laboriously read and finger tap the 13 digits. The register blinks, beeps and spits out a receipt for $0.
“No. No. Is not good,” the cashier says, looking at the receipt before realizing that that is exactly what it should say.
She repeats the digit entry from my $5 coupon. Nothing happens.
“Manager, front desk, manager front desk,” she says into a handset. The conga line of 12 people moves their shoulder as well as their feet, no doubt pondering giving up their purchase and searching for an escape route.
“I think it’s this number you need to type in,” I offer, pointing to the one under the bar code. She does and the register repeats its performance and spits out a second receipt, this one demanding 25 cents. The tax, I’d forgotten the tax. Mission failed. I offer her a $20 bill.
She looks at me and across to the line of 15 puzzled people who are now making huffing sorts noises. “I have no change, something smaller please?” she said.
I breathe deeply and shake my head as she reached into a drawer below the counter searching for pennies. I realize that there is still a chance to declare 'mission accomplished'. She finds only 15 cents.
“Ten,” she says and then again, louder “dime.” I wait for an offer from the line behind me, but another checkout has opened up and is moving fast and instead the remaining customers in it move to the new line, unwilling to pay 10 cents to end the ordeal. We look at each other, waiting to see who cracks first. It’s me.
“I have it the car,” I said reaching for the plastic bag. Her hand beat me to it.
“OK, I wait,” she said, now clasping the bag and its contents to her bosom.
By the time I return the new register is closed and all customers dealt with. It is just me and her and I hold out one of the 25 cents I keep in the car for feeding parking meters.
She picks up the handset again and speaks into it.
“Cancel manager front desk. Cancel manager,” booms around the store.
“Have nice day,” she says exchanging the bag for my quarter.