Where Did You Go?

Maybe it’s a sign of my age, or maybe not. At any rate, I think children of today may never know about the personal touch that I used to take for granted. I don’t take it for granted any more, because it is rare. Oh, it’s there, just not as prevalent as it used to be. I’ve been thinking for quite a while that grocery shopping, while it has never been my favorite thing, is now more of a chore. Why? Because I have to ask for a real, live checker to check out my cart full of food. I don’t mind checking myself out with only a few items, but with a week’s supply including meat, produce, and items that need to be weighed, I appreciate the help. 

Used to be, I had got to know some of the checkers. We’d visit as they checked. Where did you go, checkers? I miss you.

And, the telephone! Some of you won’t remember and will think this is quaint, but I can actually remember a real, live person at the other end of the telephone line who said, “Number, please?” Now, if I need help in dealing with an internet problem, a recorded voice asks me what’s the problem, and, when I finally am able to make the recording know why I’m calling, I’m passed to another recorded voice. When I finally get to a real, live person, guess what? Their first language and mine, which is English, is not the same. It’s difficult to understand them. Where did you go, people who understand? I miss you.

Yes, things are speeded up now and, oh my, the personal convenience the internet has provided! No more waiting days to communicate through letters, but it’s instantaneous with email. I don’t even have to go to a store to buy anything, any more, I can order it and, in a day or two, I have it. It’s easy and I appreciate it. But, the personal touch is not there. Where did it go? I miss it.

Oh well, I’m tired after walking the aisles of a grocery store, and then asking for a checker and waiting while someone looks her up. And, I’m feeling grumpy, so don’t mind me. Now, tomorrow I’ll need to put gas in my car. It’ll be so great to have a friendly attendant come out to fill the car’s tank, wash its windshield, and check its fluids. Oh, wait! I must be dreaming.