[Cranky Codger]

The Cranky Codger: Self-Checkout Machines: The Silent Con Artists of the Supermarket Aisle​

Ah, the modern supermarket. A place where one is tempted by aisles of sweets, coerced into buying the newest "superfood" (which, by next week, will likely be classified as the lead cause for some obscure ailment), and most insidiously, seduced by the siren call of the "self-checkout machine."

Back in my day, the checkout line was a place of human interaction. You'd stand there, basket laden with produce and regret, while you traded pleasantries with young Sally who, bless her heart, was saving up to buy her first car or perhaps pay her way through uni. A genuine smile, an inquiry about the weather, perhaps a comment about the rising price of milk - all part and parcel of the experience.

Now, however, we're herded towards these gleaming, cold machines. Machines which, I might add, seem to have the temperament of a particularly finicky cat. Move an item slightly in the bagging area? "Unexpected item!" it screams, causing fellow shoppers to glare at you as if you've just performed a high crime. And let's not forget the infernal prompting: "Have you scanned your loyalty card?" Oh, heaven forbid if you haven't!

Are 'manned' checkouts soon to be a thing of the past?

The powers that be claim these machines are all about convenience. A quick, efficient way to zip through the mundane task of grocery shopping. But let's call a spade a spade, shall we? They're penny-pinching contraptions, designed to quietly erode jobs while making you do all the work. We're essentially paying to become unpaid cashiers. If I wanted to work in retail, I'd have applied for a job, thank you very much!

What's next? Self-stock shelves? Perhaps a machine that critiques our shopping choices? "Ah, Mr. Codger," it might chime in, "do you really need that third bottle of wine? Your liver called, and it's begging for a break." Cheeky devils.

Of course, like all devious things, they come with a veneer of helpfulness. Need to buy an embarrassing ointment? No need to endure the raised eyebrow of a human cashier – just the silent, yet no less judgy, gaze of the camera atop the machine. Yes, I see you up there, you little Orwellian spy.

In conclusion, while some might rejoice at this so-called "progress," I for one mourn the loss of those simpler, human-filled times. The supermarket was once a nexus of community, an oasis of chat in a desert of chores. But now? Just another place where man meets machine, and often, leaves with a furrowed brow and an irritated sigh.

Oh, and if anyone from the supermarket's reading this? Next time you want to introduce some newfangled contraption, maybe stick to something that won't accuse me of thievery when I'm merely buying my weekly bananas.

Until next time, stay cranky, my friends.

We were only able to create this content because of the financial support of SDC Rewards members. If you’d like to see more of this (and a lot fewer ads!), please consider supporting us and signing up for SDC Rewards today—it starts at just 14 cents per day.

 

[Littleboy8]

The Cranky Codger: Self-Checkout Machines: The Silent Con Artists of the Supermarket Aisle​

Ah, the modern supermarket. A place where one is tempted by aisles of candy, coerced into buying the newest "superfood" (which, by next week, will likely be classified as the lead cause for some obscure ailment), and most insidiously, seduced by the siren call of the "self-checkout machine."

Back in my day, the checkout line was a place of human interaction. You'd stand there, basket laden with produce and regret, while you traded pleasantries with young Sally who, bless her heart, was saving up to buy her first car or perhaps pay her way through uni. A genuine smile, an inquiry about the weather, perhaps a comment about the rising price of milk - all part and parcel of the experience.

Now, however, we're herded towards these gleaming, cold machines. Machines which, I might add, seem to have the temperament of a particularly finicky cat. Move an item slightly in the bagging area? "Unexpected item!" it screams, causing fellow shoppers to glare at you as if you've just performed a high crime. And let's not forget the infernal prompting: "Have you scanned your loyalty card?" Oh, heaven forbid if you haven't!

View attachment 32255

Are 'manned' checkouts soon to be a thing of the past?

The powers that be claim these machines are all about convenience. A quick, efficient way to zip through the mundane task of grocery shopping. But let's call a spade a spade, shall we? They're penny-pinching contraptions, designed to quietly erode jobs while making you do all the work. We're essentially paying to become unpaid cashiers. If I wanted to work in retail, I'd have applied for a job, thank you very much!

What's next? Self-stock shelves? Perhaps a machine that critiques our shopping choices? "Ah, Mr. Codger," it might chime in, "do you really need that third bottle of wine? Your liver called, and it's begging for a break." Cheeky devils.

Of course, like all devious things, they come with a veneer of helpfulness. Need to buy an embarrassing ointment? No need to endure the raised eyebrow of a human cashier – just the silent, yet no less judgy, gaze of the camera atop the machine. Yes, I see you up there, you little Orwellian spy.

In conclusion, while some might rejoice at this so-called "progress," I for one mourn the loss of those simpler, human-filled times. The supermarket was once a nexus of community, an oasis of chat in a desert of chores. But now? Just another place where man meets machine, and often, leaves with a furrowed brow and an irritated sigh.

Oh, and if anyone from the supermarket's reading this? Next time you want to introduce some newfangled contraption, maybe stick to something that won't accuse me of thievery when I'm merely buying my weekly bananas.

Until next time, stay cranky, my friends.

 

[Shane/#]

The Cranky Codger: Self-Checkout Machines: The Silent Con Artists of the Supermarket Aisle​

Ah, the modern supermarket. A place where one is tempted by aisles of sweets, coerced into buying the newest "superfood" (which, by next week, will likely be classified as the lead cause for some obscure ailment), and most insidiously, seduced by the siren call of the "self-checkout machine."

Back in my day, the checkout line was a place of human interaction. You'd stand there, basket laden with produce and regret, while you traded pleasantries with young Sally who, bless her heart, was saving up to buy her first car or perhaps pay her way through uni. A genuine smile, an inquiry about the weather, perhaps a comment about the rising price of milk - all part and parcel of the experience.

Now, however, we're herded towards these gleaming, cold machines. Machines which, I might add, seem to have the temperament of a particularly finicky cat. Move an item slightly in the bagging area? "Unexpected item!" it screams, causing fellow shoppers to glare at you as if you've just performed a high crime. And let's not forget the infernal prompting: "Have you scanned your loyalty card?" Oh, heaven forbid if you haven't!

View attachment 32255

Are 'manned' checkouts soon to be a thing of the past?

The powers that be claim these machines are all about convenience. A quick, efficient way to zip through the mundane task of grocery shopping. But let's call a spade a spade, shall we? They're penny-pinching contraptions, designed to quietly erode jobs while making you do all the work. We're essentially paying to become unpaid cashiers. If I wanted to work in retail, I'd have applied for a job, thank you very much!

What's next? Self-stock shelves? Perhaps a machine that critiques our shopping choices? "Ah, Mr. Codger," it might chime in, "do you really need that third bottle of wine? Your liver called, and it's begging for a break." Cheeky devils.

Of course, like all devious things, they come with a veneer of helpfulness. Need to buy an embarrassing ointment? No need to endure the raised eyebrow of a human cashier – just the silent, yet no less judgy, gaze of the camera atop the machine. Yes, I see you up there, you little Orwellian spy.

In conclusion, while some might rejoice at this so-called "progress," I for one mourn the loss of those simpler, human-filled times. The supermarket was once a nexus of community, an oasis of chat in a desert of chores. But now? Just another place where man meets machine, and often, leaves with a furrowed brow and an irritated sigh.

Oh, and if anyone from the supermarket's reading this? Next time you want to introduce some newfangled contraption, maybe stick to something that won't accuse me of thievery when I'm merely buying my weekly bananas.

Until next time, stay cranky, my friends.

We were only able to create this content because of the financial support of SDC Rewards members. If you’d like to see more of this (and a lot fewer ads!), please consider supporting us and signing up for SDC Rewards today—it starts at just 14 cents per day.

Spot on there no more human interaction at the checkout well they can stick the self-serve checkouts where the sun don't shine

 

[Veggiepatch]

This article was so truthful. No way I could've done a better job. Well done!

EDIT: I'm considering buying a box of adhesive circles and placing them over the self checkout cameras. See what fake "legislation" the supermarkets will dream up to outlaw this!

 

[Kogelberger]

The Cranky Codger: Self-Checkout Machines: The Silent Con Artists of the Supermarket Aisle​

Ah, the modern supermarket. A place where one is tempted by aisles of sweets, coerced into buying the newest "superfood" (which, by next week, will likely be classified as the lead cause for some obscure ailment), and most insidiously, seduced by the siren call of the "self-checkout machine."

Back in my day, the checkout line was a place of human interaction. You'd stand there, basket laden with produce and regret, while you traded pleasantries with young Sally who, bless her heart, was saving up to buy her first car or perhaps pay her way through uni. A genuine smile, an inquiry about the weather, perhaps a comment about the rising price of milk - all part and parcel of the experience.

Now, however, we're herded towards these gleaming, cold machines. Machines which, I might add, seem to have the temperament of a particularly finicky cat. Move an item slightly in the bagging area? "Unexpected item!" it screams, causing fellow shoppers to glare at you as if you've just performed a high crime. And let's not forget the infernal prompting: "Have you scanned your loyalty card?" Oh, heaven forbid if you haven't!

View attachment 32255

Are 'manned' checkouts soon to be a thing of the past?

The powers that be claim these machines are all about convenience. A quick, efficient way to zip through the mundane task of grocery shopping. But let's call a spade a spade, shall we? They're penny-pinching contraptions, designed to quietly erode jobs while making you do all the work. We're essentially paying to become unpaid cashiers. If I wanted to work in retail, I'd have applied for a job, thank you very much!

What's next? Self-stock shelves? Perhaps a machine that critiques our shopping choices? "Ah, Mr. Codger," it might chime in, "do you really need that third bottle of wine? Your liver called, and it's begging for a break." Cheeky devils.

Of course, like all devious things, they come with a veneer of helpfulness. Need to buy an embarrassing ointment? No need to endure the raised eyebrow of a human cashier – just the silent, yet no less judgy, gaze of the camera atop the machine. Yes, I see you up there, you little Orwellian spy.

In conclusion, while some might rejoice at this so-called "progress," I for one mourn the loss of those simpler, human-filled times. The supermarket was once a nexus of community, an oasis of chat in a desert of chores. But now? Just another place where man meets machine, and often, leaves with a furrowed brow and an irritated sigh.

Oh, and if anyone from the supermarket's reading this? Next time you want to introduce some newfangled contraption, maybe stick to something that won't accuse me of thievery when I'm merely buying my weekly bananas.

Until next time, stay cranky, my friends.

We were only able to create this content because of the financial support of SDC Rewards members. If you’d like to see more of this (and a lot fewer ads!), please consider supporting us and signing up for SDC Rewards today—it starts at just 14 cents per day.

77

 

[Kogelberger]

Absolutely and Truely fabulous, about time someone has written what thousands upon thousands of people have been saying for a long time.Hope the supermarkets are reading this, but most probably will totally ignore.
Thankyou, Cranky Codge, keep it up, love it. Kristine

 

[Col@45]

The Cranky Codger: Self-Checkout Machines: The Silent Con Artists of the Supermarket Aisle​

Ah, the modern supermarket. A place where one is tempted by aisles of sweets, coerced into buying the newest "superfood" (which, by next week, will likely be classified as the lead cause for some obscure ailment), and most insidiously, seduced by the siren call of the "self-checkout machine."

Back in my day, the checkout line was a place of human interaction. You'd stand there, basket laden with produce and regret, while you traded pleasantries with young Sally who, bless her heart, was saving up to buy her first car or perhaps pay her way through uni. A genuine smile, an inquiry about the weather, perhaps a comment about the rising price of milk - all part and parcel of the experience.

Now, however, we're herded towards these gleaming, cold machines. Machines which, I might add, seem to have the temperament of a particularly finicky cat. Move an item slightly in the bagging area? "Unexpected item!" it screams, causing fellow shoppers to glare at you as if you've just performed a high crime. And let's not forget the infernal prompting: "Have you scanned your loyalty card?" Oh, heaven forbid if you haven't!

View attachment 32255

Are 'manned' checkouts soon to be a thing of the past?

The powers that be claim these machines are all about convenience. A quick, efficient way to zip through the mundane task of grocery shopping. But let's call a spade a spade, shall we? They're penny-pinching contraptions, designed to quietly erode jobs while making you do all the work. We're essentially paying to become unpaid cashiers. If I wanted to work in retail, I'd have applied for a job, thank you very much!

What's next? Self-stock shelves? Perhaps a machine that critiques our shopping choices? "Ah, Mr. Codger," it might chime in, "do you really need that third bottle of wine? Your liver called, and it's begging for a break." Cheeky devils.

Of course, like all devious things, they come with a veneer of helpfulness. Need to buy an embarrassing ointment? No need to endure the raised eyebrow of a human cashier – just the silent, yet no less judgy, gaze of the camera atop the machine. Yes, I see you up there, you little Orwellian spy.

In conclusion, while some might rejoice at this so-called "progress," I for one mourn the loss of those simpler, human-filled times. The supermarket was once a nexus of community, an oasis of chat in a desert of chores. But now? Just another place where man meets machine, and often, leaves with a furrowed brow and an irritated sigh.

Oh, and if anyone from the supermarket's reading this? Next time you want to introduce some newfangled contraption, maybe stick to something that won't accuse me of thievery when I'm merely buying my weekly bananas.

Until next time, stay cranky, my friends.

We were only able to create this content because of the financial support of SDC Rewards members. If you’d like to see more of this (and a lot fewer ads!), please consider supporting us and signing up for SDC Rewards today—it starts at just 14 cents per day.

Brilliant...love it. I agree with all of it, those machines that yell at you gives one nightmares! Gone are the good days of chatting to fellow shoppers, now everyone seems too angry to pass the time of day !!

 

[Veggiepatch]

A comment from someone called Samantha in a NewsCorp article back in August.

In the actual seat and AI couldn't decipher the difference between a hot chook (for example), and a child.. a human child.

Hilarious!!

 

[Penny4]

Thanks for this witty, objective critique. Never entered my head about the self-stocking of shelves, but it wouldn't surprise me if it was on the agenda at head office. Perhaps in the future, we might rock up and do our own click and collect order as well.

 

[Clancieblue]

What about the silent security guard at the door in Spotlight and Myer for example.
You know you haven't done anything wrong, but it starts beeping as you work through.
Funny how everyone looks at you except the staff, they must be over it as well.
I saw a couple rush down the escalator in Myer years ago, with a large, boxed TV set. They charged out the exit door, alarms blaring, no staff around, and straight into a waiting vehicle. Off they went, I stood and watched, not a single staff member turned up to check.

 

[magpie1]

If we want to keep our regular check out system going and continue supporting jobs for many Australians in the Supermarket industry then we all need to speak up and let our community stores know our feelings. Enough of this self serve on a major scale......open more check out aisles with friendly staff.

 

[Marcy46]

Well..I'm a supporter of self serve checkouts ( please don't judge me) Because I live in the city and my local Woolies is just around the corner I shop every day for just a few items at a time. It is so convenient for me rather than waiting in line with only one poor kid on register. This poor kid had turned into a robot (think..how are yous today...have a nice day...sometimes at 6.00pm) God help us all for the advancement of technology...some is fantastic some is a bloody pain...depends on where you sit

 

[Staffordshire Whippet]

I still enjoy a bit of Checkout Banter (assuming the Checkout Chick/Chuck speaks English....)
Only yesterday, at my local Woolworths, the Checkout Chuck sent me on my way with a cheery "Come again soon, Sir! Once a week is never enough!", to which I replied "That's what SHE said!"......

The poor bastard next in line behind me dropped his slab of Pepsi.

 

[Ray Black]

The Cranky Codger: Self-Checkout Machines: The Silent Con Artists of the Supermarket Aisle​

Ah, the modern supermarket. A place where one is tempted by aisles of sweets, coerced into buying the newest "superfood" (which, by next week, will likely be classified as the lead cause for some obscure ailment), and most insidiously, seduced by the siren call of the "self-checkout machine."

Back in my day, the checkout line was a place of human interaction. You'd stand there, basket laden with produce and regret, while you traded pleasantries with young Sally who, bless her heart, was saving up to buy her first car or perhaps pay her way through uni. A genuine smile, an inquiry about the weather, perhaps a comment about the rising price of milk - all part and parcel of the experience.

Now, however, we're herded towards these gleaming, cold machines. Machines which, I might add, seem to have the temperament of a particularly finicky cat. Move an item slightly in the bagging area? "Unexpected item!" it screams, causing fellow shoppers to glare at you as if you've just performed a high crime. And let's not forget the infernal prompting: "Have you scanned your loyalty card?" Oh, heaven forbid if you haven't!

View attachment 32255

Are 'manned' checkouts soon to be a thing of the past?

The powers that be claim these machines are all about convenience. A quick, efficient way to zip through the mundane task of grocery shopping. But let's call a spade a spade, shall we? They're penny-pinching contraptions, designed to quietly erode jobs while making you do all the work. We're essentially paying to become unpaid cashiers. If I wanted to work in retail, I'd have applied for a job, thank you very much!

What's next? Self-stock shelves? Perhaps a machine that critiques our shopping choices? "Ah, Mr. Codger," it might chime in, "do you really need that third bottle of wine? Your liver called, and it's begging for a break." Cheeky devils.

Of course, like all devious things, they come with a veneer of helpfulness. Need to buy an embarrassing ointment? No need to endure the raised eyebrow of a human cashier – just the silent, yet no less judgy, gaze of the camera atop the machine. Yes, I see you up there, you little Orwellian spy.

In conclusion, while some might rejoice at this so-called "progress," I for one mourn the loss of those simpler, human-filled times. The supermarket was once a nexus of community, an oasis of chat in a desert of chores. But now? Just another place where man meets machine, and often, leaves with a furrowed brow and an irritated sigh.

Oh, and if anyone from the supermarket's reading this? Next time you want to introduce some newfangled contraption, maybe stick to something that won't accuse me of thievery when I'm merely buying my weekly bananas.

Until next time, stay cranky, my friends.

We were only able to create this content because of the financial support of SDC Rewards members. If you’d like to see more of this (and a lot fewer ads!), please consider supporting us and signing up for SDC Rewards today—it starts at just 14 cents per day.

The Cranky Codger: Self-Checkout Machines: The Silent Con Artists of the Supermarket Aisle​

Ah, the modern supermarket. A place where one is tempted by aisles of sweets, coerced into buying the newest "superfood" (which, by next week, will likely be classified as the lead cause for some obscure ailment), and most insidiously, seduced by the siren call of the "self-checkout machine."

Back in my day, the checkout line was a place of human interaction. You'd stand there, basket laden with produce and regret, while you traded pleasantries with young Sally who, bless her heart, was saving up to buy her first car or perhaps pay her way through uni. A genuine smile, an inquiry about the weather, perhaps a comment about the rising price of milk - all part and parcel of the experience.

Now, however, we're herded towards these gleaming, cold machines. Machines which, I might add, seem to have the temperament of a particularly finicky cat. Move an item slightly in the bagging area? "Unexpected item!" it screams, causing fellow shoppers to glare at you as if you've just performed a high crime. And let's not forget the infernal prompting: "Have you scanned your loyalty card?" Oh, heaven forbid if you haven't!

View attachment 32255

Are 'manned' checkouts soon to be a thing of the past?

The powers that be claim these machines are all about convenience. A quick, efficient way to zip through the mundane task of grocery shopping. But let's call a spade a spade, shall we? They're penny-pinching contraptions, designed to quietly erode jobs while making you do all the work. We're essentially paying to become unpaid cashiers. If I wanted to work in retail, I'd have applied for a job, thank you very much!

What's next? Self-stock shelves? Perhaps a machine that critiques our shopping choices? "Ah, Mr. Codger," it might chime in, "do you really need that third bottle of wine? Your liver called, and it's begging for a break." Cheeky devils.

Of course, like all devious things, they come with a veneer of helpfulness. Need to buy an embarrassing ointment? No need to endure the raised eyebrow of a human cashier – just the silent, yet no less judgy, gaze of the camera atop the machine. Yes, I see you up there, you little Orwellian spy.

In conclusion, while some might rejoice at this so-called "progress," I for one mourn the loss of those simpler, human-filled times. The supermarket was once a nexus of community, an oasis of chat in a desert of chores. But now? Just another place where man meets machine, and often, leaves with a furrowed brow and an irritated sigh.

Oh, and if anyone from the supermarket's reading this? Next time you want to introduce some newfangled contraption, maybe stick to something that won't accuse me of thievery when I'm merely buying my weekly bananas.

Until next time, stay cranky, my friends.

We were only able to create this content because of the financial support of SDC Rewards members. If you’d like to see more of this (and a lot fewer ads!), please consider supporting us and signing up for SDC Rewards today—it starts at just 14 cents per day.

I received a request to comment on my visit to woolworths and wish I had the authors writing skills. My reply covered everything you did but added that the guard had to be taken from his note book to restart after a thinly veiled suggestion of theft. I told them to stop accusing people of theft and await an answer which I will not get.

 

[Rob44]

Supermarkets are the con artists. Their aisle are just the places where the con happens. The price-gouge people. Profits up; jobs down. A great pity that the local grocer, butcher etc almost all no longer exist because of extended trading hours. The supermarkets have put families out of business.

 

[jazzer8542]

The Cranky Codger: Self-Checkout Machines: The Silent Con Artists of the Supermarket Aisle​

Ah, the modern supermarket. A place where one is tempted by aisles of sweets, coerced into buying the newest "superfood" (which, by next week, will likely be classified as the lead cause for some obscure ailment), and most insidiously, seduced by the siren call of the "self-checkout machine."

Back in my day, the checkout line was a place of human interaction. You'd stand there, basket laden with produce and regret, while you traded pleasantries with young Sally who, bless her heart, was saving up to buy her first car or perhaps pay her way through uni. A genuine smile, an inquiry about the weather, perhaps a comment about the rising price of milk - all part and parcel of the experience.

Now, however, we're herded towards these gleaming, cold machines. Machines which, I might add, seem to have the temperament of a particularly finicky cat. Move an item slightly in the bagging area? "Unexpected item!" it screams, causing fellow shoppers to glare at you as if you've just performed a high crime. And let's not forget the infernal prompting: "Have you scanned your loyalty card?" Oh, heaven forbid if you haven't!

View attachment 32255

Are 'manned' checkouts soon to be a thing of the past?

The powers that be claim these machines are all about convenience. A quick, efficient way to zip through the mundane task of grocery shopping. But let's call a spade a spade, shall we? They're penny-pinching contraptions, designed to quietly erode jobs while making you do all the work. We're essentially paying to become unpaid cashiers. If I wanted to work in retail, I'd have applied for a job, thank you very much!

What's next? Self-stock shelves? Perhaps a machine that critiques our shopping choices? "Ah, Mr. Codger," it might chime in, "do you really need that third bottle of wine? Your liver called, and it's begging for a break." Cheeky devils.

Of course, like all devious things, they come with a veneer of helpfulness. Need to buy an embarrassing ointment? No need to endure the raised eyebrow of a human cashier – just the silent, yet no less judgy, gaze of the camera atop the machine. Yes, I see you up there, you little Orwellian spy.

In conclusion, while some might rejoice at this so-called "progress," I for one mourn the loss of those simpler, human-filled times. The supermarket was once a nexus of community, an oasis of chat in a desert of chores. But now? Just another place where man meets machine, and often, leaves with a furrowed brow and an irritated sigh.

Oh, and if anyone from the supermarket's reading this? Next time you want to introduce some newfangled contraption, maybe stick to something that won't accuse me of thievery when I'm merely buying my weekly bananas.

Until next time, stay cranky, my friends.

We were only able to create this content because of the financial support of SDC Rewards members. If you’d like to see more of this (and a lot fewer ads!), please consider supporting us and signing up for SDC Rewards today—it starts at just 14 cents per day.

Here here I soooo agree. No wonder people are stealing! They feel the right to be ‘paid’ to be doing their own checkout! If they employed more people assisted checkouts people would not be able to steal and they could lower there prices ! Easy !

 

[Littleboy8]

I still enjoy a bit of Checkout Banter (assuming the Checkout Chick/Chuck speaks English....)
Only yesterday, at my local Woolworths, the Checkout Chuck sent me on my way with a cheery "Come again soon, Sir! Once a week is never enough!", to which I replied "That's what SHE said!"......

The poor bastard next in line behind me dropped his slab of Pepsi.

 

[Mina vriesekolk]

I like the self check out if I only have a few items , otherwise I would prefer the register where a human being packs your shopping items .
There is a new Coles not too far from where I live and I think there is only one register with human assistance , the rest are all self check out and there is a lot more space to put your items and you have to put your trolley at a certain space , obviously that is very the camera’s situated to watch if people doing the right thing.
In Western Europe there is a country where people can check out their items and have a conversation with the person behind the teller , obviously there will be limits. This has to do with some people are lonely and this is a social thing as there are many people that might be their only conversation they have on that day . So if you are in a hurry that aisle is not for you.

 

[Ross Cameron]

The Cranky Codger: Self-Checkout Machines: The Silent Con Artists of the Supermarket Aisle​

Ah, the modern supermarket. A place where one is tempted by aisles of sweets, coerced into buying the newest "superfood" (which, by next week, will likely be classified as the lead cause for some obscure ailment), and most insidiously, seduced by the siren call of the "self-checkout machine."

Back in my day, the checkout line was a place of human interaction. You'd stand there, basket laden with produce and regret, while you traded pleasantries with young Sally who, bless her heart, was saving up to buy her first car or perhaps pay her way through uni. A genuine smile, an inquiry about the weather, perhaps a comment about the rising price of milk - all part and parcel of the experience.

Now, however, we're herded towards these gleaming, cold machines. Machines which, I might add, seem to have the temperament of a particularly finicky cat. Move an item slightly in the bagging area? "Unexpected item!" it screams, causing fellow shoppers to glare at you as if you've just performed a high crime. And let's not forget the infernal prompting: "Have you scanned your loyalty card?" Oh, heaven forbid if you haven't!

View attachment 32255

Are 'manned' checkouts soon to be a thing of the past?

The powers that be claim these machines are all about convenience. A quick, efficient way to zip through the mundane task of grocery shopping. But let's call a spade a spade, shall we? They're penny-pinching contraptions, designed to quietly erode jobs while making you do all the work. We're essentially paying to become unpaid cashiers. If I wanted to work in retail, I'd have applied for a job, thank you very much!

What's next? Self-stock shelves? Perhaps a machine that critiques our shopping choices? "Ah, Mr. Codger," it might chime in, "do you really need that third bottle of wine? Your liver called, and it's begging for a break." Cheeky devils.

Of course, like all devious things, they come with a veneer of helpfulness. Need to buy an embarrassing ointment? No need to endure the raised eyebrow of a human cashier – just the silent, yet no less judgy, gaze of the camera atop the machine. Yes, I see you up there, you little Orwellian spy.

In conclusion, while some might rejoice at this so-called "progress," I for one mourn the loss of those simpler, human-filled times. The supermarket was once a nexus of community, an oasis of chat in a desert of chores. But now? Just another place where man meets machine, and often, leaves with a furrowed brow and an irritated sigh.

Oh, and if anyone from the supermarket's reading this? Next time you want to introduce some newfangled contraption, maybe stick to something that won't accuse me of thievery when I'm merely buying my weekly bananas.

Until next time, stay cranky, my friends.

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My chief annoyance was having Woolies shift all the items on sale to new locations. Eggs wandered around till they found a new home. Regular stock shifted to the other side of the aisle, and a different shelf. A wide range of unknown brands hogged eye-level shelves and regular stuff was consigned to top or bottom levels. I had to make a list of the new locations of a ton of purchases. Can`t wait for the new brain-wave to hit planning managers so that they can indulge in their fantasies of where to place items.

 

[Tervueren]

Beautifully written and eloquently described.
A marvellous piece of literature. Well said!