Stop me if I've told you this already
by Matt Worley
This is the new terminal. Notice it's a touch screen. No more big green monster of an adding machine. Yep, moving into the 21st century, we are.
I've been demonstrating lately. Not like the people standing outside the Bank of America last week demonstrating against the government bailing out the banking industry. Nope. I've been showing people new equipment that will make their working lives a bit easier. How much easier? I am unable to quantify that for you. But a bit easier.
When you go through a demonstration, everything is on repeat. After a while it seems like you've just said what you just said what you are about to say what you are saying right now at this particular moment to exactly the same people standing in front of you.
Did I tell you how to change the paper?
But they aren't the same people. They are slightly different. And this time (and this time) I forgot to show them how to run a play slip. Last time (this time) I forgot about the Check A Ticket (CAT). Don't worry. There won't be a test. We're all playing parts here, and your part is to listen and nod. Occasionally we will allow questions from the peanut gallery. I'm just kidding, we welcome all of your input and queries.
Let me stamp your card and you can move on to the next table (booth, portal, demonstration platform). Please move along.
Tuesday is Thursday. Wednesday is Saturday. Somewhere in all of this Friday night just faded to black.
It's not Sunday today. It's Saturday. Sunday is Monday. And if you squint, you can see an end to it all. I've been squinting a lot lately, and I've come to realize the end is a mirage.
And through it all there's the clown bouncing off the walls. He's lost his control dial. And, for some reason, he still can't sleep in his hotel room by himself. The makeup must be seeping into his brain. Or maybe the big red foam nose does cut off circulation to his addled noggin.
This is a 2D barcode. It just holds a little more information than the old barcode. And that old barcode, well, this machine doesn't read it. You'll have to punch in all the numbers for the first week or so. This is the pain of change.
Gosh darn golly gee, and God bless 'em, he's got nutty ideas, but he's Joe Sixpack, he's Main Street, he's my boy. He's falling for all this horse malarky, because I remind him of a bright eyed heavily made up older sister babysitter he had when he was getting all big and manly and independent and so gosh golly gee American.
God bless 'em, they say they want an energy plan, but they don't understand that we've got all this alternative energy up here in the Artic, and we gotta gosh darn pump it--get that alternative energy out of the ground and into the blessed gas tanks of good golly gee Americans, especially those Heartlanders like me.
I must be losing it because an hour and a half of horse malarky marinated in some sort of Jesus freak patois made me miss the grind of the road. And the people I'd gladly throw under the bus if it got us to the next town faster, well, they don't make me as nauseous as that winking tick of a sideshow.
This is the customer display unit (CDU). It faces the customer, away from the terminal, and tells them how much they're spending.
It's all about communicating with the regular people. And giving them what they want. Faster than before. Load 'em up and get 'em out the door.
I swear I've said all this before, and I'll say it all again. And again.
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