I don’t understand supermarkets. Well, that is probably too broad a statement… What I don’t understand is the concept of the Express Lane. In theory I get it… The idea is I go to the store with the best intention of grabbing a few stray items 8 to 10 items OR LESS to be more precise and then I proceed to the magical line where I am whisked away into payment nirvana. Here’s the hitch, I can never seem to get out of the store with under the minimum. 
It is nearly magnetic… The pull I feel from hundreds of items that are not on my “shortlist” yet they call to me. Some from the sale bin, some from the clearance isle, some simply because they know I can’t resist the lure of freshly baked bread or bulk food, trail mix, dried fruit, fresh fruit, gummies, dummies and in truth anything yummy. I am a softie who is soft around the middle and I don’t believe I am the only one.
Do you ever actually see anyone at the Express Lane? The light is on but nobody is home… LITERALLY and yet I continue to beat myself up for not being one of the cool kids who has the self-control to enter and only buy the few things on my list.
… But it is not that simple as they algorithm is flawed at by its very definition. Take the example of my recent struggle with strawberries. The sale was 2 boxes for five dollars. Perfect timing for a cookout where I wanted to serve a large fruit salad. It seemed like a no-brainer and a gift from the gods considering the price of produce. I wanted 10 containers and they fit so neatly in a carrying basket I did not even need to use a shopping cart.
THE PROBLEM:
The “Express Line” clearly stated “Eight Items or Less”…
THE QUESTION:
Are multiples of the same item equal to sum total or do they all simply count as ONE since they are exact duplicates?
With so many important issues on the radar some might find this to be a trivial issue and to them I have but one thing to say…
“Meet you on the regular line and no you may not cut in front of me. You have 9 items and the for that marketing misstep like me you are forced to wait while your retinas are forever damaged from staring at salacious headlines in the rags that line the racks as we both wait with only inches and a few items standing between us and that mystical place know as the Express Lane.