I was all for smart trolleys at the supermarket - until they made me feel dumb

6 hours ago 1

My Gen Z-er children barely summon an eyeroll at my midlife failings. I’ve entered that twilight zone where I no longer fall over but have a fall. I forget which child I’ve recounted a story to and invariably end up repeating myself. I’m constantly looking for sunglasses perched on my head.

But it’s the technophobia these digital natives have no time for. When my youngest asks me to read her university assignments I repeatedly paw the screen to scroll down.

Will smart trolleys be the future of shopping?

“It’s not a touchscreen,” she says in exasperation.

I was among the last of my friends to start texting. I still find the back and forth tedious when you can just phone someone. I can’t even fathom sexting. I’ve just mastered the Smart TV, I ignore the touch screen on the car and I haven’t used the new washing machine because my husband says I am too impatient to read the operating manual.

So, when a young woman at my local Coles asked if I wanted to trial a new so-called smart trolley at Richmond Traders, the first Coles in Australia to give them a run, I decided to be an early adopter for once. Like self-checkouts, I expect some version of these Instacarts will be commonplace. I prefer not to use self-checkouts but often have little choice as there is a lengthy wait for a real-life person. I’ve seen elderly neighbours who have missed the online banking bus insist on paying their bills at the post office.

So, with the touch screen trolley in front of me, I start off by scanning my Flybuys card. My shopping will automatically scan as I place it into the trolley, the Coles employee tells me.

A shopper with a smart trolley negotiates the produce aisle at a Coles in Richmond.

I can see a running total on the dashboard, which is just what we all need as we fight a losing battle against shrinkflation and dodgy specials. Like everyone, I am constantly reeling from sticker shock. When did cheese get so expensive?

These smart trolleys won’t save people money, but the rolling tally might stop shoppers from being blown away when they get to the checkout. Perhaps it’ll help them take note of seasonal produce, choose a better value package size or find a cheaper brand. Sorry cats, we’re foregoing the Dine for the Whiskas this week.

A list of specials on the trolley screen tantalises me: in aisle 10 is an electric toothbrush for sensitive teeth, reduced from $130 to $65. Was the smart trolley judging me? Did it know I had just forked out $4000 on dental work?

I feel a show pony as I guide my digital trolley. I can’t decide if I’m on trend or doing people out of a job. I put in ricotta, tinned tuna and pastry. I snaffle highly prized eggs but for some reason, they won’t scan so I pull them in and out repeatedly till I get the beep. I’m mastering this until I need to turn around the chicken stand and find myself doing a 10-point turn with the heavy trolley as I try to navigate the shelf stackers and other shoppers.

I’m done but the digital dashboard is urging me to spend $50 so I can get three stars to unlock a deal at the checkout. My total shop for four items is $30.90.

As I approach the smart trolley express checkout another worker approaches. I must tap my credit card and if I want a receipt I need to fill in my email address. This is tedious and I remind myself to pack my magnifier glasses next time. Everything is apparently easier if you have the Coles app, but I need another app like I need a hole in the head. While there is a bench to pack my goods, I realise I should have been picking and packing as I went. You can take the smart trolley to your car if you want, but a staffer will come with you to retrieve it.

I’ve since used the trolley seven or eight times. One time the avocados and corn take forever to register on the dashboard and another time the barcode on a packet of hot cross buns refused to scan. As kids we never ate a hot cross bun before Good Friday. This was a sign. Chastened, I put the buns back on the shelf. On one occasion I realised, when looking at the receipt the next day, that the lolly snakes hadn’t scanned. I hadn’t shoplifted since I ventured out with my screaming firstborn nearly 26 years ago and realised when I got home that I hadn’t paid for the cooked chook under the pram.

If I want a low service environment, I go to ALDI. While the cash register operator is always pleasant and I enjoy the middle aisle of shame as much as the next person, the manic packing of goods while trying to pay so you don’t hold people up is stressful.

I’m a Coles shareholder, so I get the idea that shareholders want to add efficiencies and get more of your information. Coles says the Instacart is about shoppers managing their budget and checking out faster. Some days it is faster and you fly through. Other days you are constantly having to flag a staffer to help, just like with self-serve checkouts, where your bagged lettuce hasn’t registered in the bagging area.

I expect as I get more proficient my smart trolley shop will get faster. But I’m not sure it’s much benefit for a big shop with bulky items. And if you have just a few items it’s probably going to be faster with a basket and a self-serve checkout.

I’m persevering because I don’t want to be left behind and I expect, like scanning bar codes to order food at restaurants and dialling into Teams meetings, it will become commonplace. But at this point I’m feeling dumber every time I opt for the smart trolley.

Claire Heaney is a Melbourne writer.

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