As if there were not enough other substantial reasons for hating Wal-Mart, there is this: they have killed the bagboy. This age old piece of Americana has been not so subtly replaced by a mechanical device, a carousel loaded with plastic bags (“Wal-Mart kites”) that turns ‘round in circles ad infinitum. The cashiers, relieved by advancements in check-out technology from having to actually punch in prices to a cash register, simply scan the bar codes and shove the items into the revolving plastic bags. There is no “Do you want paper or plastic?” At Wal-Mart it is all plastic.
I came of age in the Fifties working as a bagboy for Kwik Chek, owned by Winn-Dixie. My salary was 50¢ an hour plus tips, and tips in those halcyon days were good. I worked a forty hour week. It put me into a fine ’54 Ford with a spacious rear seat and a glass pack I installed on the exhaust system. In short, it purred.
Bagboys brought personality, humor, and a sense of humanity to the otherwise boring chore of grocery shopping. The thousands of Wal-Marts despoiling the land these days bring impersonality to a new height. So where do the boys go now that cannot be bagboys? They are in so-called fast food joints asking customers if they want fries with that. There is no fraternization with harried housewives as the cart full of groceries is pushed across the asphalt parking lot to the waiting car. There are no tips, no pockets choked with quarters and lesser coins. The art of squarely packing a brown paper bag with groceries in just the right way has gone sadly by the boards. For that, I mourn.
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