Unexpected item in bagging area.

It’s not unexpected, you digital fuck. You literally just told me what it is. It’s right there on the screen. I did the wavy-wave, you did the bleepy-bleep; up until the point where you decided to have an electronic stroke, things were going exactly according to plan. What you mean is that you haven’t been programmed right. Don’t go putting this on me, like I’ve somehow gone out of my way to surprise you. I’ve got places to be, man. I can’t be playing hide-the-actual-salami with the Terminator’s younger, shittier cousin.

Oh, and now you’ve sent for backup. Well done. Now I have to deal with a human person who thinks I’m either an imbecile or a thief for not being able to work what’s effectively a bathroom scale with delusions of grandeur for the fourth time.