The self-checkout kiosks are open and ready to go. A human cashier’s line is five people long and moves slowly. In two minutes, any sensible person would come over, look over their belongings, and be in the parking lot. However, some people just don’t move. They appear unfazed by the math as they stand in the slower line.
It’s tempting to refer to it as a habit or a general apprehension about machines. However, after observing those individuals for a while, you become aware of something. The technology doesn’t confuse them. While they wait, many of them are checking apps, tapping phones, and most likely placing online orders. Avoiding a screen is not what they’re doing at the register. It’s a subdued preference for what a screen can’t provide.
An increasing amount of research is available to help explain what’s really going on here. A person’s mood and sense of connectedness to the world around them are significantly impacted by brief social interactions, such as those that last only thirty seconds and that no one really remembers by nightfall. According to a well-known study by Gillian Sandstrom and Elizabeth Dunn, customers who spoke politely to a barista, made eye contact, and smiled a little reported feeling happier and more socially connected than those who completed the transaction quickly. Not very much so. Just conspicuously. Therefore, that cashier line is doing something that isn’t reflected on a receipt.
It’s also important to consider how many of these moments have subtly vanished from a typical day. An ATM has taken the place of the bank teller who used to recognize your face. A menu of options, a chatbot, and an online form gradually replaced the travel agent, the video store clerk, and the receptionist who used to answer the doctor’s phone in person. None of this was made public. One minor improvement at a time, it became possible to spend an entire Tuesday without actually speaking to another person.
In the 1970s, sociologist Mark Granovetter defined “weak ties” as the informal, incidental relationships we have with neighbors, cashiers, and baristas who are aware of our orders. They are not intimate partnerships. No one is acting as though they are. However, studies continue to show that they are also not insignificant. Individuals who engage in more of these fleeting daily encounters with acquaintances typically experience a stronger sense of belonging—a subtle but genuine sense of being a part of a shared world. In one study, students reported feeling better on days when they spoke with more classmates than usual. The exchanges were unmemorable. It had no effect.
As the U.S. Surgeon General’s advisory noted in some detail, loneliness has been on the rise for years, and one of the factors contributing to this is the fact that practically every practical task can now be completed without the presence of another person. Things like groceries, banking, travel, and doctor’s appointments that used to necessitate a quick human interaction are becoming less common. Even if they wouldn’t say so, people in the checkout line may sense that it’s one of the last holdouts.
What self-checkout truly provides in return is also worth discussing. It promises speed, control, and privacy—no one has to wait on someone else’s pace or watch what’s in the basket. That’s really appealing in some circumstances. However, it also eliminates a transaction’s soft edges. No acknowledgment, no minor gripe about the weather, no genuine “have a good one” from someone who at least somewhat means it. Behavioral scientists Nicholas Epley and Juliana Schroeder of the University of Chicago discovered that people consistently underestimate how pleasant it is to make a fleeting connection with a stranger. They anticipate being more at ease in silence. Usually, it isn’t.
Customers who regularly used human checkout lanes demonstrated greater store loyalty than those who regularly used self-checkout, according to a 2024 retail study. This suggests that the human checkout lane still has value beyond simply bagging groceries.
Therefore, it may appear irrational when someone passes an open kiosk and enters the slower line. Selecting one of the few remaining opportunities for a human, low-stakes, brief, and truly genuine exchange is perhaps the most sensible thing they will do all day.
