I went in an unnamed supermarket over the holidays. Unnamed because they are a client.
It was a few days before Christmas and the place was jam-packed full of people wearing Cleveland Sports Team clothing.
Anne and I, along with plenty of others joined one of the eight self-checkout lines. I couldn't help notice that the lights above the scanners were flashing like Erica Roe holding a flashlight at a Flash Gordon conference.
It transpired you had to own the supermarket's loyalty card to use these checkout stations. No signage of course - which is good because it's a fucking stupid rule.
So this old dear was scuttling from one station to the next, asking if we had a card, upon a negative reply she swiped her own card, which brought up a keypad into which she entered a 9 digit PIN code.
By my estimation she would have to do this 50 times an hour.