Well, the inevitable has finally happened 鈥� automated checkout machines are now a thing at my favourite grocery store. I thought it would hold out longer than other grocery stores, but it鈥檚 not the case.
Automated tellers certainly aren鈥檛 new. We鈥檙e familiar with them in our banks and movie theatres, but they have been less common in grocery stores.
At first pass, self checkouts in grocery stores seem strange. Banks are impersonal, as are movie theatres, so that makes sense, but grocery stores are organic and, well, visceral. They have fruit and vegetables and milk and pieces of dead animals in brown paper and dried-up herbs for sale. Automated checkouts seem like an unnatural fit, even though pretty much everything we consume comes with a barcode these days.
There are pros and cons to self checkouts. Pros: They allow you to shop anonymously, without having to interact with another person. Cons: The aforementioned, plus the inevitable waits when they lag or you make a mistake.
Back in the day, I worked as a ticket-seller for a movie theatre. We regularly had lineups out the door on weekends, and my manager would remark how much faster his box-office team was than the automated machines. It wasn鈥檛 that the machines broke down (though they did) or that they lagged (though they could) 鈥� it was simply that the guests were slower than us. I don鈥檛 care how many times you鈥檇 bought your tickets at that machine, we were still better at selling tickets than you were at buying them, because we sold hundreds of tickets per day. We knew what we were about.
While replacing a teller or two with a bank of self-serve machines is theoretically more efficient, most automated transactions can鈥檛 match the speed and proficiency of a teller who truly knows what they鈥檙e about, not unless the customer is extra speedy.
Then again, don鈥檛 we all secretly think we can do a better job than the person in front of us? Maybe this illusion is the true appeal of the self-serve checkout.
There鈥檚 also the worry that the machines will cost some people their jobs. Grocery stores wouldn鈥檛 implement them if they weren鈥檛 a long-term cost-saving measure.
I actually have quite a lot of fondness for the self-serve checkouts. When I lived in Quebec, the machine had an English option, something that the human tellers lacked. Once I mustered up the courage to give them a try, they became my best robotic friends.
The only thing you couldn鈥檛 use them for was buying beer, something that British Columbians don鈥檛 need to worry about, since we鈥檙e not sensible enough to sell beer in our grocery stores.
But I also have a lot of fondness for the people who sell me groceries. When I first moved downtown, I quickly sought out My Places: I have My Bakery, My Caf茅 and My Grocery Store. I like chatting with the people at My Grocery Store, not just because they鈥檙e all likeable people, but because it鈥檚 one of My Places. I get a happy little my-life-is-going-all-right when I get to be the person who is chatting with the people in line, talking to the teller, walking home with kale under her arm.
That鈥檚 on good days, of course. On bad days, I鈥檓 hurried and harried and it鈥檚 busy and all I want to do is buy my cookies and frozen pizza without anyone judging me for my poor diet decisions. That鈥檚 when the automatic teller comes in handy, when it鈥檚 one of Those Days.
So human contact, or anonymity? The warmth of the personal touch, or the cold, impersonal machine? The annoyance of having to interact with other people when you鈥檙e tired and hungry after a hard day at work, or the ease of the automated transaction?
Happily, at the moment, it鈥檚 not a question of automated tellers versus humans, but automated tellers and humans. Those who prefer one or the other can choose, and those who don鈥檛 care can simply gauge which line is longest.
But for what it鈥檚 worth, my experience suggests that until the typical grocery shopper has memorized all the relevant vegetable codes and becomes an expert bag-packer, it might be speedier to go with a human for now.
