On Friday nights, Carly and I go to Chili's when the menfolk are busy with basketball. She and I like to play Marble Matrix on the game kiosk. Normally she wins; that artistic mind of hers sorts out those patterns like nobody's business. It's the same reason why you don't want to play Memory with her; she always win. She is the Michael Jordan of Memory. You are the benchwarmer.
But I digress. This post has nothing to do with Marble Matrix. (Although you should know that I scored a rare win tonight. Hooray for me!!)
Chili's is now requiring customers who want to pay with a credit or debit card to check themselves out using the game kiosk. You punch a button, it tells you what you owe and suggests a 20 percent tip. You swipe your card, and then wait 20 minutes for the manager to bring you the receipt that didn't print.
This bugs me. I'm paying for service, not to do it myself. I have the same issue with self-checkout at the grocery store. If I'm doing your work, you can lower your prices. (Hy-Vee, I'm talking about you.)
Does this bother anyone else or is it just another sign that I don't get it?
In other unrelated events, I've embarked on a new hobby . . . you might not have heard of this before -- it's called putting pictures into a photo album. It looks like this:
I'm just kidding. Your grandma probably had a few of these, so you've at least seen one before. Digital photos are great, and they look really nice in your computer folders. But the reality, at least around here, is that no one is going to look at them. And my brain cells are dying off by the day, so I need to write down what these pictures are about before I completely forget.
I bought a bunch of the exact same album at Target. 160 photos per year. My plan is to work backward, one album for each year until I run out of pictures and albums, years, or interest.
And finally, a picture of Riley, who earned a Presidential Award for being a smarty pants. Please be sure to notice the $6,000 smile!