For this, my highly anticipated first column of 2024, I could have been like the other columnists. I could written about hot topics like, “Congress Inaction,” (the spelling is correct), “Trump’s Latest Legal Issue Will Likely End His Campaign,” (wait, that one has been done 50 times already), or “Despite Economic Gains, Biden Struggles with _____ (fill in the blank: Young, Older, Black, White, Hispanic, Democratic, Independent, Undecided) Voters.”
But instead of feasting on this low hanging fruit, I have chosen to use this space to tackle a more serious threat to America’s fragile psyche. Of course I’m talking about self-service supermarket checkout lanes.
One by one, our favorite stores have redesigned their stodgy old cash register lanes in an effort to make our shopping experience more enjoyable. I’m joking! When the self checkouts actually work, they’re tolerable at best. More often they provide adventures and challenges not unlike a reality TV show called, “Survivor: Supermarket Chaos.”
I would feel better if the manager would fit me with a store-branded t-shirt and cap as I enter the store. Hey, if I’m going to work for you, I might as well look the part.
As I make my rounds through the aisles, my store cred might come in handy as I gather the scavenger hunt items I’ve been tasked to find by the game master. (Okay, it’s my wife. We had visitors over the holidays, so I was searching for arugula, grenadine, tahini, saffron, and gnocchi. The shelf stockers look away when they see me coming).
Once I’ve filled my buggy, snagging most of the hidden treasures on my list, it’s checkout time. On to the land of automation!
Obviously, these wondrous devices were designed to eliminate employees. Some genius told Mr. Supermarket Magnate, “Do I have a deal for you! We’re going to get rid of those checkout ladies and bag boys, and let your shoppers do the work for you!” Before anyone could say, “Oh, now we can lower the prices,” the genius continued, “and meanwhile, we will raise the prices!” Mr. Supermarket Magnate thoughtfully considered the possibility of fewer employees and higher profits, mulled it over for a millisecond, and said, “Sold!”
I never I thought I’d miss the days of Chatty Cathy behind the counter, verbally questioning each of my purchases (“Wow, when did they start making Industrial Strength Immodium?”) and broadcasting my problems storewide (“I need a manager at Register 4. Mr. Carroll’s credit cards have been rejected, and he says it can’t possibly be his fault.”)
But now I’m greeted by a faceless bot whose recorded voice welcomes me, followed by a few quick scolds. “There was a problem with your last item. Please set it aside and you’ll be helped by a team member.” As a red light flashes, signaling “Customer in Distress,” the nearest team member is helping five other people whose produce wasn’t recognized, or whose barcode was incorrectly scanned, or any number of human errors that must be corrected by someone from the store’s dwindling supply of humans.
When a team member finally comes to my rescue, she presses her thumbprint, slides her employee card, and enters her super-secret code so she can reverse my egregious mistake. “Oh, I see what you did. You tried to ring up parsley, but this is parsnip.” “Pardon? I replied. “No, not pardon. Parsnip. You rang up parsley.”
“I see. Well, now that you fixed that, stay with me for a minute, because I also have a persimmon and a pomegranate, and with this persnickety gadget, I’ll probably botch those too.”
She rolled her eyes and scanned my remaining items, and then made a beeline for the manager to request a transfer from self-service. Nobody told her she would have to deal with “some weird produce guy.”
Since then, I have learned that several big stores are reconsidering their transition to self-service checkouts. They cite theft, technical issues, and frequent breakdowns (like the mental ones I have when they don’t work).
Robots are definitely taking over, but I will always choose to deal with real people if possible. Just let me keep the t-shirt and the cap.
David Carroll is a Chattanooga news anchor, and his new book “I Won’t Be Your Escape Goat” is available on his website, ChattanoogaRadioTV.com. You may contact him at 900 Whitehall Road, Chattanooga, TN 37405, or at RadioTV2020@yahoo.com.
