Say cheese! Am I dressing up for the supermarket security camera?

8 hours ago 4

Opinion

November 1, 2025 — 5.30am

Halloween is over. It was fun and creative – I don’t agree with the naysayers – but, as all that sparkly plastic is being trucked off to landfill, here’s a chance to mention the things which, according to me, really are scary.

The Woolworths camera. It’s now filming every time I use the self-checkout. I know this because it notices the bag of veggies from the veggie shop at the bottom of my trolley, and then refuses to proceed until a staff member assesses my overall moral character. They don’t check if I have a receipt. It’s mostly a “vibe” thing. Phew, I’m assessed as OK. But here’s the thing: should I smile for the camera? They say they’re only filming the trolley, but what if I stumble into the shot? Should I say “cheese” or “sausages” as I normally do when having my photo taken? Does the Woolworths computer ping every time because I have thin, cruel lips – a feature it probably associates with the criminal class? Does its database know my long-dead British grandfather was a small-time thief, regularly imprisoned? And most important question: Now I’m a film star, should I be dressing better for a trip to the shops?

Does the Woolworths computer ping every time because I have thin, cruel lips?

Interest deals from the big banks. Oh, it’s a good rate, for sure. It’s 4.25 per cent as opposed to the usual 0 per cent. And all you have to do is meet the “bonus interest criteria” – which is to remember to transfer $5 every full moon, add $10 on the day before Julius Caesar’s birthday, and make 14 retail transactions, at least 10 of which must be at a business specialising in the sale of antique pottery. Otherwise, the interest rate that month goes back to the “normal rate”. Which is 0 per cent. Actually, I exaggerate; it’s 0.25 per cent. All the same, have they ever had a customer who managed to qualify?

The computer that lies. I’ve now tried AI about 10 times. I can’t believe a $6 trillion industry is being based on this thing, which – so far at least – doesn’t appear to work. I ask if there’s a book about an admittedly obscure person in whom I’m interested. There’s a bit of to-and-fro, at which point it triumphantly produces an answer. Yes, there is such a book! It gives me a title, author and date of publication. Only problem: I soon find there is no such book. The author is real – a New Zealand historian. She has written on vaguely similar topics, but not this one. This happens every time I try AI. On another occasion, I am supplied with a long quote from a 1948 book, which, once I’d visited the State Library of NSW, requested the book and read it from cover to cover, turned out to be entirely fabricated. The book didn’t even mention the topic. Here’s my experience: unless the question is straightforward, with recent sources of information, all digitised, AI is determined to produce an answer that will meet your expectations, even if the “answer” doesn’t exist. It’s like a dog programmed to please. But is that helpful? How is it worth trillions? How is it meant to “transform the economy”? If a wagging tail is all that’s required, my dog Clancy will do it for free.

Museums and other kid-friendly activities that don’t open until 10am. I won’t hear a word against the Australian Museum. It’s the most brilliant place to take anyone, of almost any age. But please open at 9am, so the kid doesn’t fall asleep 90 minutes in.

The ankle, generally, is not the body’s most attractive feature. Do we really need to see them?

Books in which the reader is left perpetually confused. Critics seem to love these books. They have no punctuation marks, the sentences go on and on at Joycean length, and it’s often unclear where the scene is set, when it’s set, and who is speaking. The English novelist Martin Amis had a high literary style – his language always thrills and surprises - but he also advised writers to be “good hosts”. If someone comes to your home, you point out the kitchen, the toilet and the fridge from which they might grab a beer. You might also carefully introduce them to those already in the house, clearly announcing their names and their particulars, hopefully in a way that will spark interest. Shouldn’t the novelist – Amis asked – offer the same considerate service?

Shoes with no socks. Why is this a thing among young men? It makes me think of sweaty feet. The ankle, generally, is not the body’s most attractive feature. Do we really need to see them? Speaking of which, I’m also not sure about the trend for adults to dress like toddlers.

Colour-coded Opal cards. I understand that they need to look different, but does the junior card have to be a lovely green colour, suggesting spring growth, while my seniors’ Opal card is in an autumnal brown, as if to say “Winter is coming”?

Photos of Barnaby Joyce on the front page of the paper. Surely, there should be a content warning.

Scary? Oh, I’ll give you scary.

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