Last week, my column was written a little differently than those you have read these past two years. It wasn’t written how I usually express myself in this little corner of the paper.

Yet, it was still something personal about my life. And it was still being able to share some of those little moments which I believe we all have in common. Either way, it was different.

Maybe that was a good decision, or maybe it was an awful one. I can never be quite certain.

I was explaining to a friend of mine who doesn’t read the paper what my column was about. I told him how the radio never plays good music until you are 30 seconds from home. I mentioned the traffic and having to judge which lane you should be in. I ended by noting the trip to the store resulted in you getting everything but what you went for. And when I was done, he asked me if I mentioned the checkout lines.

Well heaven’s no I didn’t mention the checkout lines. It slipped my mind.

I though I was having a bad enough day already, but he was right. There was much more I neglected to mention.

I failed to comment on a few additional moments we may experience during that run to the store to buy the one thing we want, and will still ultimately forget to buy by the end of our journey.

Regarding the store, I did note that in our hurry to grab the one thing we came for, we bypass the buggys. I mean, who needs a buggy for one item?

But when something is on sale or BOGO, we start shopping. Now, we are struggling to carry an armload of oddly-shaped items throughout the store because there is no way we are going back to get a buggy now. That would make us appear stupid. So, we are forced to play Jenga or Tetris in order to keep everything from spilling out onto the floor.

Yet, we still refuse that buggy. Instead, we insist we can hold on a little longer. We are almost to the checkout line and can soon set everything down.

And then … we have to choose a checkout lane.

Now for those stores that don’t offer a self checkout register, there are usually only one or two registers available. If the amount of customers in line are pretty similar, we must now judge the cashiers.

Somehow, the cashiers have become eerily similar to the truck situation at the red light. Who will be able to check you out the faster? Who, indeed, because it seems we are always in a hurry everyplace we go. Even if we aren’t.

Something in our brain tells us we are impatient people and have to go through life quickly. Why?

So, the cashiers … once you make your choice, you of course, can’t get out of line. If you do, and the line you left moves faster than the one you are now in, well … that might make you look like a putz. So we stay in our lane and hope for the best.

Let’s say our cashier is much faster than the other one.

As luck would have it, you now have to deal with the customers in your line.

Is it me, or do we always seem to get behind somebody who still believes in writing a check for their groceries?

Or perhaps we end up waiting on someone to count their change out very, very, very slowly.

Maybe we get behind that one person who somehow forgets what their debit card’s pin number is and they have to phone a friend.

Maybe it is someone whose card doesn’t want to work in that particular terminal. And we stand there and watch as they rub their card on their pants, blow on it, put it in backwards, look for another card, anything and everything except paying the lady and getting out of the way.

Why does everything have to be a struggle?

But let’s say we choose the right customers in front of us but the wrong cashier to check us out. A cashier who just can’t seem to locate that scan code, or who has trouble fitting the items into a bag. The ones who want to chat about your day.

And then there are the ones who can’t count change. You know the ones.

Having to look at the register to tell them how much change they should give you back when something costs $11.95 and you hand them $12.00 cash.

Some people haven’t a clue.

Heck, I was telling the clerk the correct change that we should get back when I was literally 3 or 4. What happened to the school systems?

Some of these young cashiers don’t even bother giving you back your change. I kid you not.

I was at the gas station I go to every day and this young kid working there closed the register after I handed him my dollars and told me to have a nice day.

I still had change coming. I mean, it was nothing excessive, but it was still 12 cents. My 12 cents. I worked for that. And the last I heard, we don’t tip people for ringing up our gasoline.

Apparently he didn’t feel 12 cents was worth counting out and giving back to a customer. As if coins are unimportant and we should all just round up.

This was only a few months ago, but it still really bothers me. I realize I should have said something to him right then and there. But I hate confrontation. So I said nothing and left the store.

I don’t believe he works there anymore, because I haven’t seen him in quite a while. Which is OK with me. But had I that moment back, I would have told him to give me my freaking change. I would have given him a history lesson on how people used to work all day just to earn 12 cents to feed their family. I don’t care how many people I would have held up in line just so I could instill in this young person that you don’t just keep other people’s money.

If I wanted to give the store my 12 cents, I would have thrown it in the “take a penny holder” by the register.

Come to think of it, maybe no one is putting a penny in. Maybe the cashier who doesn’t like to give change uses those pennies himself. Well, that and my other penny and my dime. See how I did that? I immediately knew the correct mathematical formula to deduce 11 cents would be left over after he placed one of my pennies in there. And I did not need a register or a calculator to figure it out, either. Take that arithmetic.

Anyway, I’m sorry I had to take up yet another column because I failed to mention when going to buy that one thing you didn’t need and couldn’t afford but still wanted and ultimately forgot, there are many things that can go wrong inside of the store itself.

And the worse part of it all (and there is a worse part,) … is when you discover you are that cashier or you are the one who is holding up the line.

Yes, I have counted my change many a time. I am so embarrassed. Sorry about that. But I thank you for putting up with some more of life’s little moments … moments, perhaps, we all share. I wish for you no red lights and good music in your travels. I wish for you the wisdom to grab a buggy, even though you think you may not actually need it. Chances are, you will.

Or at least you will encounter someone in the store who will graciously accept it from you. Chances are, it may be me.

(Stenger is the community editor for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times. She can be contacted at jstenger@heraldstaronline.com.)