Computer says no

The charmless robot world of the airport.

Increased automation has crept into every corner of life: self-service tills, AI chatbots, labyrinthine call centre options and touch screens replacing the human touch. I even miss ticket conductors on the bus and train — I’d love to have my ticket checked officiously. It would be better than a snappy barrier at the end of the journey.

Little Britain’s ‘Computer says no’ is reality. Except now, the computers do the talking too.

And when you do finally interact with a human being in customer service, it’s often a huge let-down. Customer service has changed in some fundamental ways during my lifetime.

Whereas the objective was once to serve the customer, now it is to persuade the customer they have been served, in order to move them on with as little fuss as possible. There’s been a general deterioration in manners and decorum and I appreciate that customer service staff must feel burnt out — who can blame them — but they seem programmed to get rid of the customer with a question or complaint in the most efficient way possible. In other words, they tell you what you want to hear, even if it’s not true.

Take my recent experience of terrible customer service with British Airways at Heathrow. My husband and I were shunted from desk to desk by ostensibly polite staff, all telling us completely different things, just to get rid of us and avoid a couple of lingering, disgruntled customers.

First, let me set the scene. How depressingly utilitarian air travel has become. Robot cleaners whirr obediently across the floor, emitting an eerie whirr. You check in by printing your own labels, tagging your own bags, and sending them off on the belt with all the ceremony of returning a parcel to Argos. What once felt like the start of a holiday now feels like unpaid labour.

It’s not only irksome and confusing, it’s cold. Where are the cheerful exchanges with check-in staff? Where is the human welcome? From the moment you arrive, you are funnelled into a system designed for efficiency, not delight. Scan your own passport. Scan your own boarding pass. Scan your own snack. Want a drink? Here’s a QR code, now go sit in a corner and interact with your phone like a good little traveller.

And what have we gained? Marginal cost savings for corporations. Cold, frictionless ‘convenience’ for us. Would we not pay a little more for real people? And perhaps a bit more than that for competent, pleasant ones? I miss beaming at the check-in staff and exchanging a few jolly words. I mean, you arrive in a great mood because you’re going on holiday, only to be met by a faceless touch screen and passport scanner. Dull, dull, dull.

It’s not just airports. In banks, the staff have been replaced by screens. In supermarkets, you’re expected to do your own checkout — and god forbid the machine needs to check your age. In cafés, the barista may barely look up as you tap a screen to tip them 10%.

Scene set, back to my recent example.