I am very pro-robot. I own a Roomba. I love my Roomba. Any inanimate object willing to do a chore I hate is basically family.
Then there is Marty, the supermarket robot.
I Know Marty Has a Real Job
To be fair, Marty is not roaming the supermarket because the machines have finally decided the produce aisle is strategically important. Badger Technologies says the robots used by Stop & Shop detect floor hazards and spills, and upgraded versions also scan shelves for out-of-stocks, misplaced products and pricing issues.
That is useful. Sensible, even. I support the mission.
I just do not support the part where the mission silently appears six inches behind me with giant googly eyes.
The Problem Is the Sneaking
Marty always seems to arrive at the exact moment my nervous system has stopped paying attention. I round a corner and — boom — there he is. No footsteps. No polite cough. No tiny robot clearing its throat. Just a rolling plastic witness to whatever terrible snack decision I am making.
Sometimes he beeps. Sometimes the store announcement tells everyone there is a spill or a danger. Somehow that does not make it less creepy. It just means the silent robot has suddenly found its voice and has chosen public safety as the topic.
Pandemic Grocery Shopping Made This Much Worse
When I originally wrote this during the COVID-era supermarket madness, grocery shopping already felt like a low-budget survival game. There were arrows on the floor. Nobody seemed sure which direction they were supposed to walk. Random shelves were empty for reasons known only to supply chains and possibly squirrels.
One day, the potatoes were basically gone. I had barely processed the disappearance of an entire category of starch when Marty glided into view like he had been assigned to personally observe my disappointment.
That was the moment I decided the robot needed a bell.
Give the Robot a Tiny Bell
I do not need Marty removed. I am not anti-technology. I am anti-ambush.
Give him a little bicycle horn. Give him kitten noises. Give him the sound of a pony trotting softly toward the frozen foods. Put a bell around his neck like a cat that keeps attacking the curtains.
Anything.
Because if supermarket robots are part of the future, fine. I accept the future.
I just want the future to stop sneaking up behind me while I am looking for potatoes.