Sharon Turner, a long-time cashier at Eastview IGA in Red Deer, Alta. staffs the grocery store’s slow checkout lane, which encourages customers to take their time and talk. Slow checkouts have multiplied at supermarkets around the world – a small effort to help stave off loneliness in local communities.Tara Kearney/Supplied
In Red Deer, Alta., one checkout lane is forever popular at Eastview IGA, a “small town in a big city store,” as owner Tara Kearney describes it.
That’s the “Slooooow Dooooown and Have a Chat Lane,” where customers are encouraged to stop, look up and talk to Sharon Turner, a beloved cashier working the till.
In her Newfoundland lilt, Ms. Turner asks customers about their grandkids and latest vacations. There’s small talk about the weather, snow on the roads. She’ll gently rib husbands who’ve forgotten their shopping bags.
“If you’re having a little bit of trouble with things, she’ll give you advice. She’ll ask, ‘We haven’t seen you in a while, is everything okay? What can we do for you?’ ” Ms. Kearney said.
“Anyone wants to leave a place feeling better than when they walked in. And that’s what Sharon does.”
In February, after Ms. Kearney and her husband, Anthony, noticed customers lining up for the cashier even as other lanes sat empty, they approached her about staffing a slow checkout lane. The couple had read about a Dutch supermarket chain running unhurried, chatty checkouts as a small-scale way to mitigate loneliness.
Ms. Turner agreed, and the slow lane picked up, slowly.
“She’s just got the knack to create conversations with people and it’s got nothing to do with the groceries in front of them,” Mr. Kearney said. “It takes a very special person for it to be real.”
As grocery shopping gets more automated and impersonal, with delivery, click-and-collect and self-checkouts proliferating, the idea of a slow lane staffed by a personable, patient, human cashier feels like a lost art, especially in cities where life can move at an unforgiving pace.
Grocers who’ve experimented with slow checkouts found customers appreciative of the interactions they foster – rare instances of familiarity, kindness and comfort in their daily grind.
One Eastview IGA customer told Ms. Turner that sometimes their conversation is the only one she has all week.
“There would not be a day goes by that she’s not hugging somebody that goes past the till,” Mr. Kearney said.
The slow lane makes his wife think of small-town stores where people asked after each other and cared to hear the response: “When people don’t feel so rushed, they feel more human at the end of it.”
Kio Stark, author of When Strangers Meet: How People You Don’t Know Can Transform You, believes that talking to people who populate your day-to-day life – a fellow morning commuter; a café regular; a store clerk – can pierce a routine and feel humanizing, an opportunity to “understand this inner life of someone else.”
“These very small moments of conversation and connection mean something to people,” she said.
Jason Rutledge staffing a slow checkout lane at Edmonton’s Belmont Sobeys, where shoppers would line up to talk to the affable cashier.Supplied
Ms. Stark also sees good in slow checkouts cultivating interactions among shoppers themselves. From a labour perspective, she thinks it’s important cashiers be given the choice to work a slow lane and not be penalized for inefficiency.
Since 2019, the Dutch supermarket chain Jumbo has installed some 125 “Kletskassas” (chat counters) throughout its stores in the Netherlands and Belgium. The chain, which joined the National Coalition Against Loneliness, a Dutch government initiative, also invites shoppers to converse at “coffee corners” set up in aisles – a community-minded gesture meant to stave off isolation.
Other grocers see slow lanes as an antidote to the hurried pace at traditional supermarkets, paying particular attention to customers with health issues.
In 2017, a Tesco supermarket in Scotland introduced a “relaxed checkout lane,” focusing on those with dementia, Alzheimer’s, autism and social anxiety. Alzheimer Scotland helped develop the initiative to help people stay connected while maintaining more independence in their routines.
On weekday mornings, NU Grocery, a zero-waste store in Ottawa, turns down the lights and the music, catering to people with sensory sensitivities. The mornings now attract lots of different shoppers who just prefer it this way: “The store is quiet, lights are dimmed, everything just feels more zen,” said co-owner Valérie Leloup.
Similarly, the British supermarket chain Sainsbury’s introduced slow shopping hours and relaxed checkouts for people with dementia; staff help customers browse and chairs are placed in aisles for rest. Several Japanese supermarkets also reserve weekly hours at “slow registers” for shoppers who are older, disabled or have dementia, with staff specially trained on their health issues.
“Treat customers like you would your friends or family. In a day and age where folks are transaction numbers, that might stand out,” said Edmonton grocer Jerry MacLachlan, who launched his slow lane at Belmont Sobeys in January after noticing customers lining up for one particularly talkative cashier.
Jason Rutledge, recognizable by his wacky hats – a neon green squid, a Thanksgiving turkey – talks to anybody about anything. One day he’s asking about a customer’s recovery after knee surgery. Another, he’s coaching a young shopper before her first job interview.
“He cares about so many people around here,” said Mr. MacLachlan, who feels the slow lane was a natural fit for his “good vibes store.”
In the spring of 2021, a regular, a “rough and tough biker type,” came in after his wife died suddenly. Store staff got the man a chair and consoled him.
During the pandemic, when supermarkets running at limited capacity made customers line up outside, Mr. Rutledge joined the queue one day, blasting the accordion-heavy chicken dance from a wireless speaker in his pocket. Somehow, the cashier got everyone to move.
“We had a lineup of people with folded arms waiting to get in, just choked to be living through this scenario, playing along with Jason and doing this chicken dance,” Mr. MacLachan chortled.
Today, the store runs on a “gas pedal/brake” model: quick with customers who want to get in and out, slowed down for those who want to talk.
“I look at this little store, this little happy place,” Mr. MacLachlan said. “Hopefully we can make people feel good and maybe the community will get a little bit better because people are happier.”
Zosia Bielski