As I rang them up, the charming mechanical voice said, "ten dollars and fifty four cents." Whiskey-tango-foxtrot? A quick glance at the screen showed me the problem-- the price was $5.99/lb.
I honestly didn't check the price when I bagged them, but that seemed wrong. I asked the oh-so-helpful assistant who works the self-check area. "No, that's the usual price." OK, fine. I paid it, and as I was walking by she grabbed someone else and asked him how much they were.
He and I wandered over there together. At $4.99/lb the price was still ridiculous, but there was no way I was paying the extra buck a pound on top of that price. I headed back to the self-check area, and she pointed me to one of the regular lines. "I can't do that here because I need a scale."
I trotted over to the only checkout line that was open, and got stuck for quite a while behind some schmoe who couldn't figure out how to use his ATM card. I found myself wondering whether this was really worth my time for less than two dollars, but concluded that it was about principles rather than greenbacks.
Soon enough, the clown in front of me left, and I explained my problem to the cashier. He looked at the receipt, opened his drawer, and handed me a ten dollar bill plus a handful of coins.
"That can't be right."
"It is. We have a moneyback guarantee if we overcharge you."
I guess that was worth the wait.
Oh. They now sell individually shrinkwrapped potatoes at triple the normal price, for people who can't figure out how to stick a regular potato in the microwave.