‘It’s a trap’: Sad truth about self-serve checkouts

Almost every supermarket you visit has shuttered manned checkouts in favour of self-serve options – but it’s highlighted a sad reality for Australia.

OPINION

Does anyone know if Coles has had its staff Christmas party yet?

I’ve been eagerly awaiting my invitation – what with all the groceries I’ve scanned for them this year.

It’s time to put an end to this scourge.

Self-service checkouts never deliver the convenience they promise.

There’s always some bing or bong because you’ve put something in the wrong place or the barcode refuses to scan or the weight plate disagrees that you just put the yoghurt in your bag.

So you have to hail down the sole staff member – who is already dealing with five other people in the same pickle.

A test match finishes by the time they make it to you and you wonder why you bothered doing it in the first place.

The shorter queue looks enticing – but it’s a trap.

Self-serve checkouts are a divisive feautre in a host of major chains these days. Picture: Supplied

Major supermarkets including Coles have used self-serve checkouts for years. Picture: Carla Gottgens/Bloomberg via Getty Images

I recently struck up a conversation with an entrancing young red-headed lass in a tweed coat at the self-serve checkout next to mine.

Anyone who knows me could attest to the flutter that set off in my heart.

My station decided to chuck a fit and I turned to attract the attention of a worker who, it turned out, was busy with some other schmuck.

By the time she made it to me, and I turned to continue my scanning, the beauty was gone.

That godforsaken machine might have cost me a whirlwind romance.

Which is the other problem – they are devoid of all human interaction except for when someone has to right the thing after it inevitably breaks down.

We live in a world now so devoid of socialisation that it has become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Human interaction has become so foreign in so many situations that we’ve actually started convincing ourselves that we don’t need it.

Covid accelerated it with working from home, separating people from their workmates. Try talking to someone in public these days and you’ll often be looked at like you have two heads. People go to the pub and swipe away on a dating app instead of chatting someone up at the bar.

Woolworths also heavily employs self-serve checkouts. Picture: NCA NewsWire / Gaye Gerard

It’s hard to find a supermarket that doesn’t have self-serve checkouts anymore. Picture: Supplied

Humans are inherently social creatures. It is biologically wired into the brain for the benefit of us and our species. It’s the reason loneliness causes stress, anxiety and depression.

And it hurts young people – those seemingly more likely to use self-service checkouts – the most.

The Australian Institute of Health and Welfare says more than a quarter of women aged 18-24 “often felt very lonely” in 2021 compared to a fifth in 2015.

A major survey of loneliness last year found more than a third of Australian adults had felt lonely the week prior.

And according to the Black Dog Institute, in the 14 years to 2022 depression among young Australian adults soared by 72 per cent.

Major retailers overseas are now ditching self-service in response to customer feedback and an online poll by news.com.au this week found 86.5 per cent of respondents wanted it gone.

It’s gone beyond it simply being a choice. Supermarkets have systematically removed traditional checkouts, corralling us into their self-serve setups in the name of higher profits.

My local Coles closes all normal checkouts at night.

But those small interactions with checkout staff are more important than we realise.

I distinctly remember going to the supermarket with my mother as a child and her having favourite checkout chicks. One, in particular, was to be avoided if at all possible because she was a sour old thing.

Over time a rapport was built that involved asking how the kids were and other general chitchat.

Caleb Bond fears he missed out on a whirlwind romance thanks to self-serve checkouts in his local Coles. Picture: Tricia Watkinson

It is a brief interaction but it means something – just like the conversation you might have with the barista at your favourite cafe every morning until, one day, he gets another job and you feel sad.

Fifteen, 20 years later I can remember these conversations.

This is what the supermarkets have taken from us. And we are all poorer for it.