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Self-Checkout and Job Suckers
Recently, I’ve been thinking about a former colleague who spent more than a few years teaching me about ins and outs of the wild world of work. While out to lunch at a cafeteria-style place, he told me to leave my tray and dishes on the table because I wasn’t being paid to do the job of returning them. If I did it, someone would be shorted hours or out-of-work. In November, when I was in Manitoba, our daughter had a little health emergency the same day our newest grandkid was experiencing a diaper emergency. She and I and the wee fella hopped into the car and headed to a local mega-mart to pick up everything we needed to ride through their crises. Mom and babe stayed in the car while this Granny hustled her butt into the store to pick up the list of essentials. We were in a bit of a hurry, babe was down to the last of his diapers (he was too small for his non-disposables) and Mom was without a vital prescription. We shouldn’t have picked a megastore on a Saturday, but that’s where the pharmacy was located. The place was jammed with folks getting a jumpstart on their Christmas shopping. If you’ve been to the Walmart in Belleville on a Saturday, or a few weeks before a big holiday, you know what I mean about “jammed”. I managed to find everything we needed and rushed to checkout number twenty-two. A blue-vested greeter saw me standing at the end of a seriously long line and suggested I could hurry through by using the Self-Checkout. And then?
Well, and then I had a moment of “maybe I should take advantage of the nearly empty self-checkout because I had a daughter and a wee grandson waiting in the car” and they do have a “health emergency and diaper crisis”. I could be out much faster by taking advantage of the technology. And then? Well, and then I smiled at the greeter and my mouth was in gear way before my brain, and I heard myself saying, “You mean your automated replacement?” By the look on her face, I think she knew what I was talking about. I apologized for being too honest and politely declined the offer of a speedy “self-checkout”. I took my chances in the line with a dozen other shoppers. As it turned out, a conversation regarding self-checkouts ensued with the couple ahead of me. They told me they drove into Brandon once a month to shop and as much as they’d like to spend less time in the checkout, they refused to use a self-checkout until there was a guarantee that no one would lose their job and a discount was given to anyone using self-checkout. Hmmm, I had thought about the job loss but hadn’t thought about a discount for doing a job for free. If I’m doing the work, why shouldn’t I get a discount. We compared notes on how the wonderful world of capitalism was taking advantage of our need for speed. Even when the banks are open, most of us choose to use the ATMs. If you have to use a real person for your more complicated banking, be prepared to be told to phone the branch and make an appointment, or stand in a line because only two Customer Service people are working on a Friday.
And it isn’t just about automation. As I gave job loss more time in my mind, I thought about the number of times, as a customer, I’d been expected to do a job I wasn’t being paid to do. How many times had I cleared my used dishes away at a restaurant, fast food place and otherwise? How many times had I picked my food up on a tray and struggled to find my own table in a restaurant. How many times have I pumped my own gasoline and cleared my own windscreen, then headed into a kiosk to pay while a line-up of drivers patiently waited for my return? When I was in the UK, one of the big drug mart-type places, in the neighbourhood, only offered self-checkouts. Curiously, the self-checkout was overseen by a staff member and two security guards. I asked the staffer why she was there her reply was along the line of, “Our customers just don’t seem to understand how these things work.” Or maybe they did understand. Maybe they understood exactly what they were doing.
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