(Note: It’s a generic image)
Ok, I admit, I’m probably out of touch. There was probably an announcement. I didn’t read it. I’m busy, really busy, and things sometime escape my notice. I’d go with maybe it’s my age, but I didn’t grow up in the 1950s or something, so I didn’t come from that image of the guy who arrives home in his suit to the perfect, black-and-white image of a family, with the perfect dinner sitting on the perfect dinner table. I grew up in the 70s where, to the best of my understanding, everyone was either hung over from the 60s or pissed off at something in general… and there was this disco thing with giant pants and collars… and John Travolta. Too much information? Fine… let’s continue, but I’m not happy about it.
Here’s the thing: When did customer service become “self-service”, even when there are employees there to help you?
Today’s reminder: I was at the grocery store, not to be named, because they aren’t Jewel, and they consider themselves “special”, or they’d just use the larger Kroger brand that applies to the rest of the chain. Hold on… don’t be thinking it’s Mariano’s, I never said that. Go sit in a corner and count to five. Thank you.
Done? Ok.
Now, I needed some supplies. Quickly, because it’s late and I haven’t had dinner, and I don’t want to starve and die. I made up a quick list at home and thought (operative word being ‘thought’) I’d grab some groceries quickly. Yeah, no, that didn’t play out.
I started my normal, semi-efficient path through the store, grabbing some apples, looking for a veggie to go with dinner. Off to a good start. Check. Making progress? Certainly.
I looked at the list: need some lunch meat. Ok, I never stop at the deli counter, but there are four people working and only one customer is visible… this ought to be quick. Did you see that part? Yeah… that’s called “cursing yourself” in the common tongue (i.e., the one without the Ye and all that other crap from Shakespeare I’ve merrily long forgotten). One woman, being helped by a young man behind the counter on what seemed like a special order. No one else… tumbleweed rolling past… crickets in the distance. Three other employees, two doing their best to look busy, but seemingly not doing much, the third, a woman, relatively close to me… putting sandwiches for their little pre-made display into bags. Ok, she sees me… right? Hmm.
I wait. A few minutes pass. The kid helping the woman is confused, but he’s working the problem. Motivation, his ally in an ocean of order filling turmoil. I walk closer to the woman. At this point, I’m about four feet away and so clearly in her peripheral field of view that either she should have jumped back in shock or lost her drivers license… nothing. Nada. Zero. Call missing persons. I’m clearly lost.
“Excuse me… should I wait for him to finish?” I said it as politely as a dumbfounded person can, thinking… this oughta to be all it takes. Yeah, no, double cursed. Idiot that I am.
“Did you take a ticket?” That was her response. What? You were expecting something like, “I’m sorry, how can I help you?” Well then, you’re an antiquated fool like me and you should be thrown into a pit with the dog with the lotion from that movie with Jodie Foster… ok, maybe not that, but seriously. You read the title here, right?
“I’m the only one here” was my response… thinking the obvious stupidity of her question should have caused her a mild choking moment or a hair ball… but that could be my cats, I’m not sure.
“Well, you really should take a ticket, in case other people arrive.” At this point, she still wasn’t helping me and not offering to do so. She stayed with bagging sandwiches. I stood there, not being helped, thinking… Well, I really wouldn’t be worried about a line if one of the four of you actually just helped me. Then there wouldn’t BE a line, you see. It’s kind of like math, somehow. Ok, don’t judge me. I thought it, but I didn’t say it.
A minute or so later, she went to help the young man out, because he was still struggling… without ever offering to help me. I gave up and decided the packaged lunch meat is just fine for today. In hindsight, it may have been worth going Pavlov on her and pulling a ticket to see if she started drooling or I suddenly became a viable customer… but I didn’t because I really did want to make it a quick trip and eat… again… so I wouldn’t starve and die. Priorities, you know.
I thought today’s experience in customer awareness was over… right till I got to checkout.
Unbeknownst to me, while I was in Georgia, the store had installed self-checkout lines. I guess they finally realized that every other type of store in America had decided cashiers are a nice-to-have, that customers can scan and bag things on their own, and it’s much better to just dispense with the formalities, making us all tacit unpaid employees of the store.
Ok, for the record, I don’t actually have an issue with this change, I was very used to checking myself out at my last store, and I prefer not waiting in the soon-to-be short staffed checkout lines with actual employees.
In this case, the self-checkouts were fairly busy, so I made my way to a normal line, watching an older gentleman go into a near sprint to beat my cart there. Dude… I wanted to say… you’ve got this. I’m not going to get all Carl Lewis on you (if you’re not old enough for the reference… just go back to my point on the 70s, fast forward to the 80s, and you ought to be ok). People occasionally get impatient and ridiculous and I just don’t care that much, so it’s all good. This wasn’t my issue anyway.
The reason the guy went into life crisis mode in the first place was that there were three lines with cashiers open, all of them fairly busy, and he wanted to get out of the store within the calendar month. The problem was actually with the manager-type people themselves.
One of the self-checkout lines was having a problem, you see, and they had shut it down. That doesn’t seem like too big a deal, except when one manager is trying to get it to work and two other, seemingly experienced employees of the store ARE STANDING THERE WATCHING HIM DO IT. Um… folks…? You realize that one or both of you could open a register, deal with some of these customers, and the line at the self-checkout wouldn’t even be an issue… right? Does the guy fixing the machine need help? Is this an impromptu training class? Is the screen flashing some form of odd hypnosis right now? I have no idea, I was on the wrong side to see… but I was honestly baffled at why two people were standing, watching a third do something, while a bunch of customers on both sides of them were not being helped at all. The closest thing I could compare it to is construction crews or the DMV, where having one worker observed by many seems to the normal way things get done.
In any case, I eventually was checked out. The cashier and her associated bagger were both extremely polite and wonderfully friendly. A good end to the experience.
I can’t help but wonder, though… when did we get so over-saturated in the concept of “self-service” that people decided its true meaning was, I will only help if I absolutely need to? Ultimately, it does come down to the individual and their attitude, but today was quite the experience of inefficiency and apathy, and what was meant to be a “quick trip to the store” was anything but.
You win today store… but I’ll be back dammit… and next time I’m refusing to get a number again. We’ll see who wins round two.
-CJG 07/24/2018
Beauty is truth,
Structured Chaos 