Automatic Schmuck

Back in the mists of time – circa 1985 – my manager at my place of work in Aberdeen told me our office was getting a personal computer.

‘A what?’ I cried. ‘There’s no chance of me using it’ I protested. ‘I know nothing about computers and I ain’t using one’

A thin smile crossed his face. ‘You’d better get used to it, Mike. In years to come computers will rule the world’ Alas, my old boss has proved to be correct.

Now, computers are nearly everywhere you go – resulting in the depersonalisation of society.

You go to the supermarket. At the checkout, there are rows of self-service tills, all with the same annoying voice and all ‘thanking you for shopping at Tesco’. I steadfastly refuse to use these things, preferring the human touch, even if it is a grouchy woman on the till checking her mobile phone in between scanning my goods purchased.

If you’re travelling by train and are brave enough to use ScotRail there’s no escape. The automated tannoy announcements at Edinburgh’s Waverley Station spit out which trains are departing from which platforms.

‘The-next-train-to-depart-from-platform-14-will-be-the…..0930-hours-service-to…. Glasgow-Queen-Street-calling-at-Falkirk-High-and-Croy…’ The human touch of someone actually reading this in ‘real-time’ (another phrase I deplore) has long since been shunted into a siding.

To purchase a ticket, you can still go to a manned desk but it’s clear the rail authorities would much rather you use one of the countless ticket machines dotted around the concourse.

Even on the train, automation takes over. Another loud and obtrusive automated voice will bawl ‘This-train-is-for-Glasgow-Queen-Street-the-next-station-is-Falkirk-High’ followed by ‘Please-mind-the-gap-when-alighting-this-train’. Occasionally, the ticket inspector will trawl the carriages asking to see tickets and passes and it’s almost a relief to see a human face.

Domestically, if you need to phone the gas/electric/broadband provider/insurance company etc inevitably you are giving a plethora of menu options to navigate first.

‘Press 1 for billing enquiries; Press 2 for order status; Press 3 for service information; Press 4 if you wish to tell us about a change of address…or, if you really have to, press 5 and one of our agents will deal with your enquiry.’ But if you think pressing 5 will immediately put you in contact with a human, think again. ‘Thank you. Our agents are very busy right now and you are in queue position number…5. You may wish to call back when we’re less busy…’

Even a mundane task such as visiting your GP – and, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this but I’m not a well man, although I don’t like to talk about it – has now succumbed to the robots. When visiting the surgery, I no longer need to converse with the friendly receptionist behind the counter. I just tap a large screen attached to the wall and confirm my date of birth (I’m not saying I’m old, but it takes a few moments for me to scroll down the year field on the screen). ‘Are you Michael Smith?’ displays an on-screen message? Tap yes and another message tells you to take a seat. I despair.

I know we’re in the digital age and businesses are always looking for much more efficient ways of doing things aka to save money. But it seems to me that social exchanges in everyday life are becoming more of a rarity these days. And while I suspect some people may run a mile rather than converse with me, to me this is a sad reflection on today’s impatient, far-too-busy society.

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