People generally do not like to wait in line, yet many of our in-person experiences mandate doing just that. Banks and airports supply quaint rope mazes to make the queue orderly, and theme parks go out of their way to make the wait for an attraction tolerable by winding visitors through well-decorated scenic stand-and-shuffle routes. With the emergence of other checkout methods, we may not have eliminated the lines, but we have given ourselves a choice of what kind of line in which we wish to wait.
Some places have cashiers and self-checkout, yet the lines at both can be just as dense. The DIY culture doesn’t make the process any faster, because even if the method of purchasing your things has been established, sometimes the procedure is changed from the last time you visited. For folks who like to set their minds on autopilot and go through the motions (click here, click there, answer yes, answer no), one little alteration in the order of checkout on the part of the programmers of these machines can mean the difference between getting change in coins and rounding up by contributing to a charity (or worse, missing your chance to use your cash back bonus).
I recently visited a department store which I had not been to for several months. I needed to restock on some things (as in clothing in which to be seen in public), and when I stepped inside I found that an entire section of one department had been removed and replaced with a checkout zone the size of the men’s toiletry section. In one corner was the entrance to the customer line or queue, and along its outer wall opposite the cashiers, whose backs were facing it, was a newfangled self-checkout section of three kiosks. By each station was a stack of handled paper bags (no plastic bags in my state), a touchscreen terminal, and a slot for inserting clothes hangers.
The queue was already at the entrance of the “cattle chute,” so I decided to take my chances with handling the new self checkout experience myself. Nobody around me was brave enough to make the attempt, so I also burdened myself with setting a good example.
The process started off simply enough; discard a hanger, scan the barcode, place the item in the bagging area. Which was actually the counter. However, when it came time to pay, no instructions appeared. It took me a minute or so to realize that I had to touch the screen for the department store’s credit card or somebody else’s card (no cash) before the POS terminal would bother to read my card and take my future income away. Imagine that: a terminal that doesn’t register a swipe. At least I know I wasn’t double charged, though if I had, there did not appear to be somebody watching over the terminals to help if there was a problem. This is not only self-checkout, but fix it yourself or go back to college math class.
I walked away with a bagful of supplies and a receipt. As I continued to shop, I noticed that not every place in the store had gone this new route, but some familiar checkout desks were conspicuously missing, replaced by the three cashier and three kiosk garden of retail delights near the exit.
After leaving the store, I felt a mixture of nostalgia for the old days and a sense of relief that I didn’t have a meltdown while buying my own things. I don’t even know if all the stores in the chain have the new technology, but as I left the kiosk I did notice that another shopper bravely stepped up to give it a try.
She had stood in the middle of the bustle, without even getting in a line. Imagine that.
This may be the start of something better, though introducing it just before the holiday crunch may be premature, I will probably return for more shopping.
And I’ll know what I’m doing. Spending the same money without the “have a nice day” unless I want to wait in line for it.
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