Fear, Loathing at the Checkout : Culture: Our most immortal, and potentially distressing, question is no longer ‘What is the meaning of life?’ It’s ‘paper or plastic?’

The question rings constantly throughout supermarkets--a veritable checkout-stand anthem, or to those with more sophisticated music educations, an avant-garde recitativ interjected randomly over the eternal shopping Muzak:

“Paper or plastic?”

Indeed, it is perhaps the most frequently asked question in the country today--right up there with “How’s it goin’?”, “What do you want to eat?” and “Did you like ‘Crimes and Misdemeanors?’ ”

Every time I go to market, no matter what I buy--whether it is one item or 50--I am vexed by this entreaty. I work up a sweat, walking up and down the aisles, just knowing that I will soon have to make this weighty decision. And I fret to myself: Is it a question of convenience? Is it a question of economics? Is it a question of ecology? A question of etiquette? Of politics? By the time I reach the check stand, I have spent more energy worrying about this question than whether I should have fruit again for dessert, or just go ahead and get the pint of Haagen-Dazs.

Is it merely a question of convenience? The prevailing sentiment seems to be that when groceries are put in plastic bags, shoppers are able to carry more bags simultaneously, because one clutches the plastic carriers by a “handle” rather than clutching them to one’s bosom (or bosoms, as the case may be) as one would with a paper bag. Therefore, the number of trips from car to kitchen is reduced (something that is apparently a matter of great concern to the average American).

However, not everyone is in agreement on this important point--or else would not paper bags already have been elbowed out by their plastic brothers? No, there must be a large body of shoppers out there that still feels passionate about paper bags.

Is it a question of economics? Will it somehow affect the price of groceries if I opt for one bag over the other? I do not know the answer to that, but common sense tells me that paper and plastic bags are probably comparable, given that the stores stock apparently equal amounts of both--plus the fact that persons who ask for both paper and plastic are granted their iconoclastic request. (Women have carefully explained to me that plastic-surrounded paper bags, if used as disposable trash bags, will not leak discarded fluids or rotting vegetables on to the floor, as paper bag.)

Is it a question of etiquette? Probably, but I know nothing about etiquette.

Is it a question of ecology? Of course it is, and it is a sad question. For no matter how a shopper answers it, the best interests of ecology are never served. If you choose paper, you are killing trees. If you choose plastic, you are fouling the environment, since plastics are not biodegradable. Those mavericks who opt for paper and plastic are doubling the environmental sin, and are costing the market more money--to say nothing of contributing to an atmosphere of anarchy.

Is it a political question? Given that there seems to be a strong lobby for everything from guns to gum, I would have to say that yes, it probably is. However, I stay out of politics, as all honest, humble Americans do.

I have recently taken to a dangerous course of action. When asked “Paper or plastic?” frustration has led me to simply ignore the various gradations of the question, and instruct the box boy--or are they called “packaging engineers” now?--thusly:

“It doesn’t matter.”

To which I have, in each case, been greeted with: “Paper or plastic?” To which I have added, smiling, “Makes no difference to me!” To which, on one occasion, I was actually met with: “Sir, you have to make a choice!”

Pinwheels lit in my head. This complicated the question to a degree I had not imagined possible. It had suddenly become a matter of duty. Was I morally, ethically or legally required to make a choice?

Morally and ethically, I don’t think so. As for legally, well, I’m not sufficiently informed to give a definitive answer. The question might seem silly, but people often sue for silly things, like the high school girl in Florida who sued her would-be date for breaking their prom engagement. (She sought the cost of her dress and shoes.)

In response to being ordered to make a choice, I behaved as would any good citizen who is the recipient of a threat made by a representative of a powerful corporation. I reacted with fear: “Uhhh . . . wellll . . . OK then--plastic! No . . . uhhh . . . paper! Nope, nope--plastic!” And then I felt foolish for having wimped out. But I was ready for ‘em the next time:

“Paper or plastic,” said the packaging engineer.

“I don’t care,” I answered. “You decide!”

This confounded the packaging engineer to such an extent that the kid could merely stutter. He was unable to make the decision for himself. I waited, and waited, until he managed to overcome his hiccup-like noises enough to speak:

“Nah, c’mon, sir,” he implored, “Paper or plastic?” To which I responded, politely, “I really have no preference at all-- you decide.” To which he responded, uncertainly, “Well, all right then--paper. No, uhhh . . . plastic! No, no--paper!”

Feeling relieved of the strain of having to choose, I turned to the checker--er, “tabulation engineer”--smiled, and said: “Gee, every time I say ‘I can’t decide,’ the box boys--er, packaging engineers--don’t know how to handle it. This fellow is the first one who made the choice on his own. I think that’s terrific.”

To which the checker responded:

“Well, I guess people don’t know how to deal with a smart ass.”

Shocked and cut to the quick, I have since resorted to handling the “paper or plastic” question with one word: “Both.”

I don’t like stuff leaking all over my kitchen floor, either.