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I
sat in the small, wooden chair thinking about the shift I was taking
upon myself. My
calloused hands grasped the black, ergonomically comfortable scanner as I
looked at the crowd approaching me. Their eyes showed signs of hunger,
of thirst, and of minor depravity. They were hungry, and the only way to cure their insatiable appetite was through the power in my hands.
My eyes glanced down as the red light vibrated over their zebra coated bar codes. A little chuckle escaped me as I realized the position of responsibility I was given. On this throne I could determine who could eat and who would be turned away, stomachs grumbling by my royal rejection.
At first it was a simple job, being in charge of the mighty portal of porridge, but I knew that my time would end. Soon, the crowds died down. They relocated to chairs around the cafeteria with the food I had so graciously allowed them to receive. Then, boredom set in.
It's tendrils crawled through my nerves as I sat there, staring at people enjoying their food, while I sat motionless behind the cash register. Suddenly, a few ideas entered my activity depraved mind. My laser was now an instrument of entertainment instead of a mighty scepter of service!
I realized that with a few vocal sound effects, I could make it into a club. I beatboxed happily while I shone the laser around the floor, acting like a culinary DJ with no audience. Then, by a stroke of genius, I scanned a pencil and realized it was safe to go through security, followed by a retinal scan of myself (which was probably not the greatest idea). But the most interesting discovery I made about my newly held position, and something that biologists worldwide might be astonished by, is that my hand apparently has a secret, natural barcode.
When I reached the end of my wits, I decided that scanning myself to find out how much I was worth was a clever use of my imagination. With a steady hand, and a focused eye, I scanned my palm, and suddenly the receipt machine sprang to life! I looked down at the receipt, and it said, "transaction failed". My self esteem fell a couple of notches as I watched the receipt print out this very disconcerting message. I either had no worth, or could not be sold. In order to salvage my shattered self esteem I chose the latter option, because selling myself would not be the best idea I ever had.
My eyes glanced down as the red light vibrated over their zebra coated bar codes. A little chuckle escaped me as I realized the position of responsibility I was given. On this throne I could determine who could eat and who would be turned away, stomachs grumbling by my royal rejection.
At first it was a simple job, being in charge of the mighty portal of porridge, but I knew that my time would end. Soon, the crowds died down. They relocated to chairs around the cafeteria with the food I had so graciously allowed them to receive. Then, boredom set in.
It's tendrils crawled through my nerves as I sat there, staring at people enjoying their food, while I sat motionless behind the cash register. Suddenly, a few ideas entered my activity depraved mind. My laser was now an instrument of entertainment instead of a mighty scepter of service!
I realized that with a few vocal sound effects, I could make it into a club. I beatboxed happily while I shone the laser around the floor, acting like a culinary DJ with no audience. Then, by a stroke of genius, I scanned a pencil and realized it was safe to go through security, followed by a retinal scan of myself (which was probably not the greatest idea). But the most interesting discovery I made about my newly held position, and something that biologists worldwide might be astonished by, is that my hand apparently has a secret, natural barcode.
When I reached the end of my wits, I decided that scanning myself to find out how much I was worth was a clever use of my imagination. With a steady hand, and a focused eye, I scanned my palm, and suddenly the receipt machine sprang to life! I looked down at the receipt, and it said, "transaction failed". My self esteem fell a couple of notches as I watched the receipt print out this very disconcerting message. I either had no worth, or could not be sold. In order to salvage my shattered self esteem I chose the latter option, because selling myself would not be the best idea I ever had.
Time went by, and I realized that my position of power was suddenly beginning to fade. 1:30 rolled around, and I sighed. It was only an hour of power, but it felt good to experience such a gratifying sense of importance. Immediately my boss came in, turned off the cash register and told me to return to my normal life, away from my temporary position of power. I walked back to my lonely, quiet room on campus and realized that in those fleeting moments I had discovered something new about myself.
I am easily entertained when given a barcode scanner and too much time on my hands.
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