![](https://static.standard.co.uk/2023/10/19/10/City%20Voices.jpg?width=1200&auto=webp)
Forget the track, the most impressive sprinters are often found in the high street these days, racing round corners, laden with shopping bags of steak and smoked salmon.
My most recent glimpse of a shoplifter was in Liverpool, between sessions at the Labour Party conference, shooting out from a Tesco, fired up on adrenaline. But I’ve seen similar scenes unfold in Bristol, London and sleepy towns in Devon. Often thieves are much more furtive, slipping an extra item or two into their bags, unscanned.
The latest retail sales are being scoured through for signs of fresh high street malaise, though they won’t show the financial pain this epidemic of shoplifting is having on the big names. According to the centre for retail research, the sector is losing £3.5 million per day in stolen goods, with everything from cava to condoms targeted by thieves.
The cost-of-living crisis is being blamed, along with the rise in co-ordinated action by organised crime gangs. These are undeniably contributing factors, but shoplifting has been on the rise much longer, only interrupted by retail restrictions during the pandemic.
It doesn’t seem like a coincidence that this sharp increase in shoplifting that we’re witnessing has accompanied the proliferation of self-scanning technologies, in store.
I can no longer chat to Lindsay at the Sainsbury’s check out, who came across as surly so cracking her smile was always a coup – Lindsay’s probably stuck in a storeroom now, or stacking shelves in the dead of night.
What little company we have these days, in the aisle or at the tills, are impatient fellow customers, and one harried worker trying to sort out the many technological malfunctions erupting around them.
We are now once removed from human contact in our store experiences. Far from a sociable experience, shopping is an increasingly isolated activity.
Way back in 2016, a study of retailers in the US, the UK and in Europe by researchers from the University of Leicester found that theft rates doubled at self-service checkouts, representing a hefty 4% chunk of total sales.
In 2019, a YouGov survey found that 10% of shoppers admitted to stealing something through the self-checkout machines. Last month, a poll by CouponBirds revealed that one in three shoppers admit to cheating on supermarket self-checkouts, by scanning a cheaper item then bagging a more expensive one.
These admissions come from the more honest shoppers.
As we increasingly interact solely with technology, devoid of personal contact, people are not only becoming more willing to take risks but it seems our moral compass is shifting.
We’re in an ever-decreasing circle of human interaction. As more self-serve tills are introduced, more machines are brought in to monitor our behaviour. From security systems penning us in until we have scanned a receipt, to the use of AI-driven facial recognition to spot potential thieves or troublemakers.
As the world grapples with the implications of the adoption of AI, our new shopping experiences might be a useful reminder of the unforeseen effects in our drive for efficiency.
While many people like self-checkouts for their convenience and speed, they can prompt increasingly unethical behaviour among the customers they are meant to serve.
Co-op is one of the retailers introducing controversial live facial recognition cameras in some of its stores, which allow it to film its customers silently scanning at tills. Back in 2017, it released research lamenting the economic cost of isolation. Its report, launched with the New Economics Foundation put the cost of loneliness to employers at £2.5 billion a year.
Given our increasingly lonely experiences in the aisles and at the tills, it’s not a surprise that coffee shops are enjoying a fresh flush of popularity. The UK’s coffee shop market is forecast by Mintel to have consistent year-on-year growth over the next four years, with the value of the market expected to reach £4.5 billion by 2027 up from £3 billion in 2021.
I don’t go to my regular caffeine haunt just for the beans and the froth. The £3.20 I part with almost every day, is handed over in return for a smile and a chat. We may not be on first name terms, but my barista knows my favourite blend, what a busy morning I’ve had, and why I love a crisp October morning.
A casual chat and a feeling of belonging can make all the difference to our-wellbeing, which is why for many people a cuppa will be the last little luxury to go when times are tight