After many years of faithful if undistinguished service, my Epson scanner bit the big one and is now headed off to electronic Valhalla. For some weeks it had inexplicably and unexpectedly frozen, then recovered, then frozen again. Finally it was reduced to going through the motions of creating a scan, but leaving behind only a blinding expanse of white. In short, it’s deader than a doornail. I suppose that a repair is possible, but let’s face it: this is a scanner. The cost of repairing it is likely to be higher than a decent-quality new model.
I consulted a big office-supply superstore’s web site. I found a likely model. I made the trip over to said superstore, not too far from my house, in the hopes that I could come home with a new scanner and put the minor frustrations of the past scanless week behind me. But this was not to be. The superstore was anything but super. In fact, it was downright wimpy.
The problem began when I noticed that there was precisely one clerk on the floor in the electronics area, and he was being utterly monopolized by some broad who apparently insisted on examining ever single combined-function printer/scanner/fax in the joint. Until she made up her mind—which was likely to be a good long time—he could do nothing but stand there mute as she roamed about, reading spec cards and asking the occasional question.
Two other chaps were standing around in the electronics area. One was gabbling into his cell phone in Chinese. The other one was just standing there. With me, that meant three customers just standing there, not being waited on or helped. And I was #3.
I waited for about fifteen minutes, during which time the broad kept on looking and looking and asking and reading and so forth. I looked around for the promising scanner I had seen on their web site, in the hope that I could just grab the box and head over to checkout. But I couldn’t find it. From what I could tell, they had only a few wan scanners, one of them looking as though it had been sitting there since, oh, 1995.
I am no fan of brick ’n’ mortar retail to begin with, and this simply confirmed my suspicions that physical stores for items such as this are dinosaurs that richly deserve their forthcoming extinction.
I left and returned home.
I got on Amazon, found the scanner, and clicked the 1-Click button. Voilà: it should arrive via UPS at my workplace on Thursday. A few days wait. No big deal. No clerk. No ditzy broad with four million questions. A simple purchase without angst or inconvenience or frustration.
Another spadeful of dirt dug for brick ’n’ mortar’s grave.