Adrian Barich: the good old days, when no machines accused me of ‘unexpected items in the bagging area’
I was in the supermarket the other day and laughing to myself. That’s what I do these days when I see something that seems a little odd to me.
Fortunately, I’m at a stage in my life where I “don’t sweat the small stuff,” as Richard Carlson’s famous book argues.
And as the bestselling book goes on to say, “it’s all little things.”
I probably disagree with that last part, because life has a few big, important things to offer. But I understand that it’s a good idea to put daily hassles into perspective and offer strategies to reduce stress.
Let’s go back to the supermarket and the self-checkout machines. Let me start by saying I use it several times a week. This is really lucky because there is often no one at the tills.
Now machines give us orders, a prelude to what is to come from artificial intelligence and the brave new world of robotics.
To digress a bit, let’s not forget that I grew up with gas stations that weren’t self-service.
I told my kids that in the good old days I wasn’t even allowed to pump my own gas. Someone would come out and do it for me, and probably also clean my windshield and test my oil. They were surprised.
I love these conversations and could go on for hours.
What about when we had to wait for our computer to dial-up, which required a phone line to be free and was accompanied by a loud, scratchy sound?
And this: “Did you know, kids, the phones were plugged into the wall and if you stayed too long your dad would even pick up another receiver and say ‘Hang up, Adrian’, much to your embarrassment.” This really impressed the girls; not.
It was one thing to go through huge phone books to find someone’s number or address.
Sometimes using 10 year old encyclopedias instead of Google.
Children leave home in the morning and do not return until the street lights come on, and they cannot contact their parents, or vice versa.
Riding in the back of a car without a seatbelt.
Smoking everywhere, even on planes and at work.
“Tell me more about the golden days, Dad,” the children were saying.
Well, how about riding a bike without a helmet or reading the same comic book for the 58th time when you’re constantly bored at home?
“That’s not true Boomer, you made that up!” They would say.
But again, let’s get back to the automatic checkout process, which basically tells you “an unexpected item in the bagging area.”
Ah, now I know you’re a super smart device, but I’m sorry, no, nothing unexpected, and how dare you accuse me of such things, robot face? Let me call your human supervisor to rectify the situation.
How guilty do you feel when they replay the video of you putting the avocados in the bag, even though you know you didn’t do anything wrong?
Unfortunately, you are treated like a thief until you are cleared by a replay of the video.
What about the kicker? In the old days, you were the one who controlled the payment operator. . . and sometimes you even pull out your receipt to prove you were overcharged.
Now it’s a machine watching us and you can just stare at the screen while it silently judges your life and food choices and warns everyone around you that you might be a thief.
Thief Barra. . . I can only hear gossip.
My friends, the machines are winning. Sometimes I miss the simplicity of giving someone some cash (is that still a thing, cash?) and walking out with your groceries.
Going to the supermarket now is a lot like my other football world: there are gory video replays everywhere.
