First they made us pump our own gas. Then they made us check ourselves out. What’s next—performing our own surgery?
Last Tuesday, I went to buy a gallon of milk. Simple enough. However, the only lanes open were self-checkout training stations—and yes, I’m calling them that now, because that’s what they are. I stood there scanning my own items, bagging my own groceries, and essentially doing a job that someone used to get paid for. Meanwhile, a teenager in a vest watched me struggle with the weight sensor for eleven minutes.
Let that sink in.
Self-Checkout Training Is About Control
Here’s what they don’t want you to realize. Every time you scan your own groceries, you’re being conditioned. You’re learning to accept that corporations can make you work for free. You’re getting comfortable with machines replacing human interaction. First it’s checkout lanes. Then it’s everything else.
I mentioned this to my brother, and he said I was “overthinking a grocery store.” But that’s exactly what they want him to think. As I wrote previously about being silenced, the people who see the pattern are always told they’re crazy. Coincidence? I think not.
The Numbers Don’t Lie (I Made Them Up But They Feel Right)
Consider this: I’ve used self-checkout approximately 47 times this year. That’s roughly 47 instances of unpaid labor I’ve provided to a billion-dollar corporation. If you multiply that by every American, we’re talking about—and I’m estimating here—fourteen trillion dollars in free work annually. Basically, we’ve become an unpaid workforce and we’re thanking them for the opportunity.
My ex-wife used to say I “make everything into a conspiracy.” Interestingly, she also said I “never help with anything.” So which is it, Karen? Am I paranoid or am I lazy? Can’t be both.
What Are They Training Us For?
The machine always asks if I want a receipt. Then it asks if I want to donate to charity. Then it asks me to rate my experience. They’re collecting data, folks. They’re testing our compliance. How many prompts will we click through before we start asking questions?
Apparently, I’m the only one asking. Therefore, I’ll keep asking, even when the teenager in the vest sighs heavily. Especially then.
Some call it paranoia. I call it pattern recognition. And the pattern says this: today it’s self-checkout. Tomorrow, who knows. I’m not saying we’ll all be replaced by machines. But I’m not not saying it either.
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