The Consequence of Humanity
On avoiding--or being pushed to avoid--human interaction
I forgot my bags in the van again. I can’t decide if this is an ongoing problem with amnesia or if I’m acting out my inner toddler with the refusal to get with the program. The issue, I think, is that I’m not sure what the program is supposed to be, and without clarification (by that I mean, agreement and acquiesce to), I continue to march into grocery stores unencumbered.
I used to argh at the checkout stand, “Argh! I forgot my bags again!” “Argh! Another eight cents per paper bag!” “Argh! Why is the government involved in this at all!” Now I refuse to apologize. “Bag, please! It’s super handy for the cat litter!” Or some such drivel.
Today, as it turns out, I can avoid the whole scenario. For half of the checkout stands have disappeared, along with the good people who knew me by name after decades of shopping there. In its place is a plethora of self serve checkout stations. Self serve. Because, why not, we certainly serve ourselves in just about every other aspect of life. We watch programs on demand, we choose our own media bubbles, we manage our friends from afar and do most things our own way. But I’m annoyed. I don’t want to check myself out. So I’m unmoving, stymied, between the checkouts and aisle end caps.
I decide to stand in line. The line that isn’t usually there, because at this store there were always enough checkers and no line was ever more than three deep. Eventually I make it to the front, offer the due drivel regarding bags, and then ask about the changes. I find out two things: one, it only takes one employee now to oversee seven self serve checkouts. And two, no one’s been laid off.
I raise my brow. I don’t see extra employees meandering about the aisles looking for something else to do. And now the lines are longer if I want to talk with a real human being for a few minutes of social time in the middle of my day. After all, how often does a stay at home mom get a smile and “how are you” and small chitchat about the weather and the kids getting so big and won’t that be so great for supper? I thought plastic partitions and masks were bad enough for social interaction; I didn’t envision a push to forsake it altogether.
“Anything else?” the checker asks as she finishes up.
“Yes. Bring back my favorite checkers and let us be human beings interacting with one another again.”
Chuckle, chuckle.
As I’m putting my bags in the van, I’m remembering my father tipping the kids who helped us put food in the car and took back the carts. I’m wondering if someday my kids will remember the days we actually interacted with other human beings when we shopped. I suddenly feel invigorated: I’m going to be that lady. The one who talks to people. The one who will stand in line on purpose and actually chitchat. The one who will make lame jokes to the gas station attendant at Costco just to say a few words. The one who will ask the teen in the produce section if the asparagus is fresh/the mushrooms grown locally/where the whatevers are. It will be my way of refusing to comply with the notion we are simply material nothings who don’t need to bump into and interact with another image bearer of God. I almost want to shout in the parking lot, “As for me, I shall BUMP!”
I start with the small wave I give to the other vehicle turning into my parking spot.
“I see you,” I say. And I pray that I’ll find grace in the eyes of the Lord to more deeply recognize the consequence of humanity.