The supermarket near my house has five self check-out stations. Often one or two is down, and sometimes, you have to jab at the buttons on the screen multiple times to get your choices to register. Regardless, a line for the automated cashiers usually snakes around the tabloids. When I go to this supermarket, I usually find myself waiting in this line and traipsing up to one of these self check-out stations.
But, recently, as I was poking repeatedly at the screen and listening to the computerized voice ask me about an unexpected item in the bagging area, I glimpsed a cashier a few aisles down. She was scanning a customer’s groceries, smiling, and making small talk with him. It looked like a far better experience than the one I was having. So why did I choose the machine?
I kind of enjoy scanning my own groceries. The beeping of the barcode reader and the jigsaw puzzle of packing my cloth bags reminds me of playing grocery store with my sister when we were kids. But did I also choose the self check-out because I wanted to avoid a human interaction? And if so, why?
A few days after my grocery store experience, I was at the library, where self check-out is now the only option. I heaved a pile of picture books onto the counter, slid one across the radio frequency antenna, and waited for it to register on the screen, before sliding the next one. Meanwhile I tried to keep my two-year-old son from darting outside, yanking on the fire alarm, or pulling down his pants. I felt a little bit like a contortionist.
After I’d piled all of my books into my tote bag and herded my son toward the exit, the security gate rang – a common experience. The one person on duty behind the desk strode over, looked over my receipt, and counted my books. “Looks good,” he said, with a smile. “The machine must have missed one. Happens all the time.”
That’s when I remembered how the library used to be. Someone else checked out our books for us. Are the machines doing a better job than those people did? That hasn’t been my experience.
I’m not anti-technology. I use a computer nearly every day. I have a cell phone. I’m on Facebook. I blog and tweet. And I don’t want libraries – or grocery stores – to return to the days of Carnegie. Years ago I worked in a library before it transitioned to a computerized card catalog, and every night, we manually alphabetized towering stacks of cards. Let there be no doubt, computers are far better and faster than humans at alphabetizing six dozen titles starting with The Berenstein Bears and…. I’d guess they’re also helpful for keeping track of grocery store inventory.
But I’m not convinced that computers are better at face-to-face customer service.
And what are we losing? In an age when jobs are scarce, many of us are complicit in making them scarcer when we choose machines over people, even when the machines are less effective. At my local library, the people who once checked out books – some of whom had worked in the organization for decades – recently had their hours cut by 20 percent. A friend of mine in that position had to foreclose on her house, because she could no longer afford the mortgage.
And what are the social costs when we increasingly choose to disconnect from human interactions? In the U.S., social isolation is on the rise. In a 2006 study, 25 percent of Americans said they have no one with whom they can discuss their personal troubles. That’s double the number who said the same thing in 1985. And we know that for many people, social connections are the difference between life and death. Researchers from Brigham Young University recently reviewed 148 studies and found that people with strong social ties have a 50 percent lower risk of dying over a given period than those with fewer social connections.
Dr. Stephen S. Ilardi, a clinical phsychology professor at the University of Kansas points out that depression rates around the turn of the century were almost zero, but today more than 23 percent of Americans experience major depression during their lifetimes. Ilardi partly blames our growing social isolation. “I believe it’s time that we start living as Americans as if relationships are the things that matter to us the most…” he said in a recent interview.
I agree. And when so many are sounding an alarm that Facebook and other social networking sites may make us lonelier, because we’re not connecting face-to-face, perhaps it’s time to look at our ubiquitous replacement of customer-service representatives with machines. At least we can use social networking to connect with each other. Automation’s only purpose is to disconnect us.
So from now on, I think I’ll be choosing the cashier’s line. I wish I could still do that at the library.
What do you think? Do you use self check-out? Do the social implications of replacing customer service representatives with machines concern you?
There are some automated check outs at both the library and the supermarket and I studiously avoid them because I like having a human to relate to. These people are friends too in several cases and acquaintances in others – why would I want to avoid them. I might even find a new friend – you just never know
viv in nz
I totally agree with everything you are saying in this post, I can remember when the grocer took your list and hand-picked the items from the shelves. We are distancing ourselves from interactions with others, sometimes by choice and sometimes because it is only what is available to us.
This all seems to be a never-ending cycle to me. Many shoppers want to get the best deal possible and will switch stores for slightly lower prices. To keep or lure back their customers, stores have sales or special promotions. This cuts into their bottom line, which puts pressure on them to make cuts elsewhere. I would imagine that it is cheaper over the long term to install machines than to hire, train and give raises to cashiers or salespeople (or librarians!). So that’s what they do, regardless of the costs to society.
(I’d also argue that corporations can also have expectations of annual rising profits that are not necessarily realistic or healthy.)
I’m not a fan of automated check outs. Aside from the points above, it turns perfectly nice people, like the librarian who had to check you book bag, into security gaurds. I work in a tiny library and we get to know our customers by the books they check out meaning we can recommend things to them. Clerks at my local grocery often ask me about something they have seen me buy more than once – a review of sorts. However, your friend whose hours were cut at the library would likely have lost them even without automation. Many libraries have been forced to cut their budgets in a massive way and some have closed completely.
Hi Winnie. Thanks so much for your comment. It’s great to get the perspective of a library employee. That’s a great point about turning clerks into security guards. And, you’re right – sadly, like so many libraries today, our library was facing a severe budget shortage, and cuts had to be made. I have a feeling, though, that the decisions about whom or what to cut would have been different if they hadn’t moved exclusively to self check-out several years ago. I’m not necessarily critiquing this organization though. They are a reflection of us. As a society, we seem willing to accept, even choose, less effective and less personal service from machines, and I wonder why that is.
i use self-checkout frequently for the sake of convenience, and while it’s true this can be somewhat isolating in terms of interaction with others, i prefer this shopping experience to the oftentimes aloof attitude of retail employees at the cash register who mumble “have a nice day” in a cold, uncaring, and insincere way.
Thanks for sharing your perspective, Marie.
I’m on the fence on this one. On the one hand I totally agree that we are loosing touch with other, real, breathing human beings. At my library branch we can either use the self-scanner or ask to be checked out in person as long as one of the two librarians is nearby. At my local corner market, it’s in person or nothing…and I love the family that owns that market. But down the road at the big chain grocery store with 10 U-scan stations I beeline for them. The one guy needed to run those lanes is almost always friendlier than the ones at the regular lines. I’d rather skip the surly, off-hand remarks thank you, in exchange for a possible friendly one or nothing at all.
It is a good question though, what are we willing to give up in the name of convenience? What are we leaving in the hands of the corporations that we might want to think about reclaiming for ourselves?
That’s interesting, Jesse. Maybe the problem is these impersonal chain mega supermarkets themselves. We often shop at a huge locally-owned grocery store (with no automated check-out stations), and most of the cashiers know us. So I don’t think a large store has to equal an inhuman experience. I’m thinking of writing more on this and calling the managers of this store to ask why they decided not to install self check-out when they built a new store recently. I’d be interested to hear their thoughts.
Recently I read about a study on longevity, and the number one factor in determining whether or not people would live longer is, you guessed it, the presence of a spouse and/or close-knit family.
On a different note, I think that isolation is intricately linked to vulnerability. People may feel isolated and alone, but as long as they put on that “I can do just fine” attitude, no one will know that they ARE alone. When we show vulnerability and ask for help, or just reach out and aknowledge that we want to make some friends, there’s a great chance that others who feel the same way will find us and then we’ll all be happier for it
jesse makes a good point: in our modern society, we are definitely losing touch with one another vis-à-vis automated systems; it can be isolating, and here in los angeles, this is exacerbated with the high volume of cars out on the road – people become isolated from others while sealed up in their cars during l.a.’s notoriously long commutes.
i feel automated services present a way for people to hide from one another, which is disturbing. while i’m not a luddite, i do feel there is too much emphasis on using computers, text messaging, and other technology. why can’t we just simply talk with one another?
i’ve noticed that young people – who seem to be obsessed with text messaging and computers – are socially dysfunctional when trying to converse with people face-to-face; these kids looked “spaced out”, they frequently don’t make eye contact, and they mumble.
Huh. I have never heard of automated check-outs at the library! Nor do they exist at the grocery stores where I live (nor at the shops I go to in the nearest city). I refuse to use facebook or other social networking; just seems really bizarre to me. I do love “old-fashioned email” because it saves me time but often use it to arrange face-to-face visits with real live people!
Wow! You made me realize that, with the exception of bank ATM’s, the small town I grew up in is mostly automation-free – at least as far as I know. (Maybe someone can update me if they’ve added automated check-out in any of the grocery stores there.) Oh my, I can’t believe email is now old-fashioned. I’m starting to feel old.
Don’t let that make you feel old Abby! Consider this, my sister recently told me that her friends don’t use voicemail. If they can’t reach her via text, they don’t bother.
Got that…voicemail is already obsolete to the generation of recent college grads.
I don’t even have texting on my phone!
Lest anyone think the transformation to complete luddite is complete, I do use the computer (obviously) and my only phone is my cell. I just don’t have texting, Facebook, twitter, etc…and turning the phone off is quite simple!
Oh no! I’m not the best cell phone owner. I’m always losing it, forgetting to turn the ringer on, forgetting to check messages. In fact, I should probably go look for it now.
Self-check eliminates someone’s job and we must remember that. Even check out people forget that they could be replaced by machines. I try to use real people over machine whenever I can.
interesting post… i think i know the grocery store you are talking about and i would often choose the self check-out strictly because i was so afraid for my baby to lose it in the normal lane. it seemed the self check-out lanes were always open and it was rare for someone to be in line behind me in them so it felt less stressful if she started crying. but i never thought about the loss of human interaction that comes with self check-out- perhaps because i don’t think of the grocery store or library as places i go to for human interaction/support/conversation. but i am lucky to have friends and family to talk to. reading this reminded me of a professor in library school who said that some people call the reference desk because they have absolutely no one else to talk to. it’s sad to think that we may be removing some of the only opportunities for human interaction for some people.