Checking Out

For many moons I've avoided the self-checkout lane at the variety of stores that have this option. My primary reason is simple. Every self-check lane means one less person is hired in a job climate where people can really use the work. Yes, there is a monitor at these sites but one person doesn't replace several register cashiers.  (But yes, I have used them -- only in a pinch.)

But I recently read a wonderful piece in the New York Times by Stacy Torres, assistant professor of sociology at the University of Albany. Her point hit so close to home, I realized that my altruistic attitude was not the only reason I prefer real checkout lines with real people.

Source: New York Times

Take Apple Market. That's the small grocery store in my neighborhood, about six blocks from home. It's an old business, a family owned store, that has been in the community for years. Apple Market doesn't have everything I can get at Kroger or some of the larger stores but it has something they don't.

A warm, personal, friendly feeling that recognizes the individual.

It isn't just that they are friendly, of course. I'll get smiles and willing-to-help attitudes at most stores I visit -- once I can find someone to ask. But there's just that feeling of recognition, of being a part of something that matters.

Sue (front) and Kristy (at back counter). I don't know who the new guy is yet, but I know I'll find out!

I don't know the names of the people at Kroger, they don't recognize me nor do I recognize them. But at Apple Market I'm likely to be greeted by Julia at the register. Sue or Kristy might check me out. Erin might be at the lottery counter or Tim, the owner, walking through. Eric could be putting dairy into the cases or Tony stocking shelves in another part of the store. I don't know how many times Andy has helped me with the bottle return machine when it fills. All with a smile.

When Andy saw me coming he said, "I knew I'd need to empty the machine before you left!" He was right!

Or think about Dewey. Dewey works at our independent bookstore and I knew him from his volunteer work back when I was working at our TV station. If I go to Schuler's and Dewey is at the register, I feel like my day is made, that the sale will bring me not only a new book but recognition, warmth, something personal as well.

Dewey at work at Schuler's Bookstore Eastwood

Now, I'm no stranger to Amazon and more than once I've forked over enough in books, video, art supplies and household things to get my free shipping. But I don't get to browse them at Amazon. I don't get to see if it's a trade paperback or a small one, what the photos look like or how the paper feels. (No Kindle for me!) I had to know what I wanted. And sometimes, you just don't.

And it feels a little hollow. Yes, things can come right to the door, but I don't get to talk to Dewey or the others. I don't find out firsthand what they might know about something I'm considering or maybe even get a suggestion. Jim handles the mysteries and some of the used-book-buy-back. He turned me on to Georges Simenon and when I couldn't find many Deborah Crombie books, checked with their sister store across town. Didn't have to do it -- but he did, and I was grateful.

You can learn things from those with experience. Rick certainly got some tips and some inspiration in his early bread-baking days from the baker at the farmer's market. And those conversations can add a lot of fun to a simple shopping outing.

Rick had a great conversation with the bread guy at the up-north farmer's market -- and it offered motivation, a kindred spirit and some really delicious bread from my resident baker!

The point is, when I go to my grocery or to the bookstore, I am interacting with real, live people. I find this means more to me now that I've retired and I'm more isolated than when I was working. On any given working day, I would encounter a good 40 people or more -- sometimes just in passing, but for meetings and conversations as well. There are days when I may only see Rick or my next door neighbor coming and going.

I don't mind that quiet -- I like it. But I like the camaraderie of being with others, too. It may or may not be a good thing that the pharmacist where I get prescriptions filled knows my name (am I frequent buyer?! Yikes, that's not good!), but it makes me feel connected when I pick up my meds. It makes me feel more comfortable in asking a question if there's something new. And when I go in because I'm feeling terrible, they always have a sympathetic smile -- and that helps.

Favorite farm market booths can bring good food -- and good conversation, too!

In her column, Torres writes: "Ephemeral contact with cashiers and other service workers can be especially important to people at risk of isolation, such as older people who live alone, those with chronic illnesses and the unemployed."

That was the case with my dad. He moved into an apartment a few blocks from his grocery and he knew everyone by name and they knew him. Gail probably spent the most time with him -- always ready to listen. And my dad knew how to talk -- a lot!

When Goodrich's closed, I had to say goodbye to Gail -- she was Dad's favorite!

I was so grateful for that presence. (That was my other "main" grocery when I was working. It has since closed by I still think of Gail, Marybeth, Steve and Bruce, among others, with great fondness.)

I think too many of us are overwired these days. Kids chat across a room with their phones. Often, they don't even listen to messages, just checking caller ID (that really bugs me, family members.) Texting takes the place of spoken communication. Sometimes it's very handy. But when you're having a conversation with someone and they keep glancing at their phone or perhaps even texting in reply, you sort of wondered why you bothered spending the time to get together.

So, next time you're out shopping, think about the folks behind the counter. They may have great wisdom or good ideas to share, or maybe just a smile on a day when you're down. And know they appreciate your business -- and your smile, too.