Saturday, January 28, 2023

The case for human interaction at the checkout

 I decided to take a detour from arts reporting again this week since January is a little lighter on events most years, and offer up a minor rant this weekend.  Not quite up to my usual visits to the High Rant District as I call it, but close.

First, let me offer up a bit of history on me.  I hate self checkouts.  Full stop.

For most of my life I have avoided the things, along with bank machines and any other automated replacement for human contact.  Why?  Because I value human contact, and by extension the humans who provide it.

Time was, I paid my bills at the teller at my bank.  I didn't have to of course.  But I got to know my tellers at the local branch and it was more of a social call than anything else, mixed in with a bit official business to make it, well, official.  Then COVID hit and human interaction was not only avoided but most often not allowed.  

I made do and still do by dutifully using the bank machine since my local branch still does not serve customers for ordinary transactions as they once did.  I'm used to it now and will probably just keep going on paying my bills online as I have done the last couple of years or so.  But a small part of the human element is missing and I for one do in fact miss it.

Funnily enough, when I was unceremoniously let go from my radio job after a very long time I still had to work to pay the mortgage and such and decided to put my well-established customer service skills to good use.

I applied for a teller's position at that very bank where I now use the bank machine.  Oh, they call them Members Services Representatives but we all know what that means.  We were tellers.

I may have struggled with the sales aspect of the job which ultimately lost me that position after a year and a half of stress, but I excelled in the customer service department.

Why?  Because I love interacting with people.  I give respect and hopefully receive it back in kind.  I got to know a lot of the people I served by name but also found out about their lives and what made them tick.

Perhaps it was all those years in radio as an interviewer that prepared me for this aspect of the position.

On one memorable occasion a young lady came in rather stressed and as I always did I asked how she was that day.  She teared up as she told me she had just found out her young son was diagnosed with autism.  It just so happened some months before I had done a fascinating interview with a gentleman who lived with not one but two autistic sons and he went on to found an online resource for other parents in the same boat and not knowing where to turn.

I took the time to relay as much of that information to this young lady as I could, thankful there were no other customers waiting in the line to be served at that moment.  Afterwards she heaved a sigh of relief and said she was glad she came in that day and I had served her.

I was lousy at sales but I didn't care.  That moment and her comment made my day.  Heck my entire year!

When I am served at a checkout, be it grocery store, my local pharmacy or wherever, I often try to establish a rapport with the person serving me if I see them on a regular basis, which is often the case.  So I would always make it a practice to address them by first name if I knew it.

For me, it was showing respect and appreciation for that person for services rendered, in a setting where more often than not they are subjected to more vitriol than kindness.

It takes so very little effort and yet, it is becoming an increasingly rare commodity.  Kindness.

I was reminded this morning how my Mom and Dad, when they moved down to St. Catharines from Toronto, made new friends in a new city.  Dad made new friends everywhere he went as he was always out going somewhere.  Mom was more of a homebody but every Thursday morning had to go to the local A&P to do the week's grocery shopping.

It turns out Mom developed a real rapport with one cashier in particular and would see this lady every single week for years, and they became friends.  When Mom passed away this lady attended the visitation.  I was touched, because I knew Mom had touched that lady over the years and she was paying it back in kind.

That's what humans do.  Or at least should do.

Why am I bringing all this up today?  Two reasons really.

This week I had to stop at my local Canadian Tire to pick up a couple of things and when I reached the checkout I was dismayed to find there were no service checkouts open.  NONE.  I was forced to use the self-checkout or not buy what I needed.

I reluctantly opted to use the self checkout but cursed silently whilst doing so.  

Now I know it was a weekday afternoon and retaining staff is harder now and blah, blah, blah.  I get that.  But you are in the business of service customers for heaven's sake!  Can you not afford to have ONE service checkout open?!  

This unfortunately, is becoming the rule rather than the exception and I am very much dismayed by it all.

The second reason I brought this up today is because I heard a report on CBC Radio this morning about a North Edmonton Sobey's that has opened what they call a Slow Checkout Lane.  When opened, the friendly cashier takes the time to actually chat with the customer and get to know them.  They are encouraged to take the time with the customer.

How novel an idea is that?!  The manager says the idea came to him after hearing about a store in the Netherlands that did the same thing and he decided to think outside the checkout lane, as it were, and try it.

Turns out it is becoming a hit.  Not with everyone of course and I can't say if I am in a rush I would go into that lane if there were others to choose from.  But to have the choice to do either is so valuable and I dare say, needed more than ever today.

One of the many sad truths about the pandemic is we have lost a great deal of human contact, initially out of necessity and now perhaps, out of habit.  People need human contact, plain and simple.

We live in an increasingly automated age.  Self-serve gas stations are the norm now, for example.  But you usually still have to go to pay someone unless you opt to pay at the pump, which I never do.

Can we not find the time for a little human interaction now and then?  Take the time if you can and wish that person serving you a pleasant day.  I guarantee you they will appreciate it.

Not all interactions will be like the one I had with the young mother of an autistic child but it doesn't matter.  Human interaction is an increasingly rare commodity in today's society and I think we're all the poorer for it.

The Slow Checkout Lane.  An idea whose time has come...again.

Have a great weekend!

January 28th, 2023.

1 comment:

David T. Brown said...

Mike, I share your dislike for self-checkouts, and for many of the same reasons, including the lack of convivial human interaction. I also dislike the transfer of even more profit from the paycheques of employees (real or potential) to corporate coffers.
But I also wonder if the erosion of kindness you refer to is a broader-based phenomenon, tied to our ever-more-frenetic lifestyles and to a shift in general expectations about interpersonal interaction. The perceived need to "go, go, go" all the time sometimes manifests in an impatience with interpersonal interactions that leaves no room for friendly chat, even when there is no line behind you at the checkout or no other obvious tasks to be done. I suppose part of this may have to do with workplace resentment, where employees are so overburdenedand underpaid most of the time that they don't feel that anything beyond the rudiments of basic civility are required (and sometimes barely that!).

I also wonder if there is a cultural reality at play too. Many cultures outside of North America view casual chat with a stranger as odd, intrusive, or even vaguely threatening. The reluctance to engage in a way that we find so natural and rewarding can result in discomfort and tension in our evolving, ever-more-multicultural society. It's not symptomatic of a lack of kindness, but rather of a different set of expectations regarding interpersonal exchanges with strangers. I have concluded that in some contexts, I have to accept that my own expectations and attempts at conviviality are no longer shared broadly by averyone. It makes me sad, but not recognizing those societal changes can result in awkwardness and misunderstanding too.