The Checkout.

A spring in her step, mingling her thoughts with her joy of workfulness,

smiling at her friend through the sparkling windows of her swish salon,

thankful hearted she turned into her supermarket, where she swiftly 

takes her place at the check out, and looks up to smile at the familiar

faces of her the shoppers, some lean and hungry, some buying carbs

when that should be fresh fruit, and some hurrying and champing

at the bit as the queues begin to length across the lunchtime rush.


A quick break for a snatched sandwich, coffee, the loo, she hurries

to return to her place of political correctness, honesty and faithfulness

to management and faithful customers, who tell her stories of their pain,

and new babies with photos and the colour of makeup for a new look.

She works through her shift, and starts to tally her till, and soon a smile

and someone’s there to adopting the role of social adviser and carefully

ensure that money is taken, credit cards are confirmed, shopping packed


and then watches customers push their trollies or weighed down with

bags of goodies to feed families, or provisions for a meal for guests.

Home, the letter falls onto the floor with news their work was won by 

a robbing robot who will steal their places, tossing and trivialising their 

employ, decisions driven by wealth’s thoughtlessness, poor precision  of

timing; so she will build up debts to provide gifts for her children’s

Christmas and her look for work will lead down dark blind alleys as


her skills are to be replaced by technical efficiency and the old lady

who came in, just for a smile and acknowledgement that she existed,

will be locked out because she doesn’t have the job culling, appalling 

apps nor the head to drive a computer. The student’ll have a swift exit

but no one asks how his course was going, and had he thought of 

trying such and such as it was on offer and just as nutritious. Yes,


somewhere in an office, supermarkets are already plotting the death

of the checkout and give no thought to their social interaction in a

nation with poor community interaction, a place of social deprivation. 

The poor will be poorer and the wealthy, blind to the reality of living,

will be richer and the alienating tech leaches people from the shared

reciprocation losing neighbourliness and friendliness to more