“I’m Not Your Cashier — A Message to Big Stores Using Self-Checkout”.
To all the supermarkets and big retail chains that have switched to mostly self-checkout…
Let’s stop pretending this is about “convenience.” It’s not. It’s about profit—cutting labor costs, trimming payrolls, and disguising it all as “innovation.” You call it progress. But what it really is, is outsourcing the work—quietly, invisibly—to the very people who are paying you.
Today, I went to one of these stores. I scanned every item myself. I bagged it all. I loaded the cart, unloaded it again, and paid—without speaking to a single employee. The familiar rhythm of human interaction, that quick “Hi, how are you?” from a cashier, is gone. What’s left is the hum of machines, the blinking of a green light, and the subtle realization that I’ve just done someone else’s job.
And then, at the exit, there it was—someone standing there, checking receipts. Watching me like I might have made a mistake or tried to get away with something. I wanted to laugh at the irony. I’m the cashier, the bagger, the loader, and the customer… and yet, somehow, I’m also the one being checked.
You can’t have it both ways.
If you want me to do your job, then pay me. Train me. Offer me a discount. Or—better yet—hire back the people who actually did this work with pride and care. Because this isn’t efficiency. It’s erosion. The erosion of connection, of jobs, of dignity.
Where are the students who once earned their first paychecks here? The seniors who worked a few hours a day for extra income? The single parents who balanced shifts between school runs and bills? They’ve been replaced—by screens, scanners, and a soulless chorus of “unexpected item in the bagging area.”
Machines don’t smile. They don’t ask how your day was. They don’t make you laugh when your card won’t swipe. They don’t remember your name, or save a bag for you when you forget one. Those things might seem small, but they’re not. They’re what made shopping human.
So when you talk about “efficiency,” I hear something else. I hear “less human.” I hear “less community.” I hear “you’re on your own.”
I didn’t stop when they asked to check my receipt today. I lifted it above my head and walked out. Not out of anger, but out of principle. Because if I’m doing the work, I shouldn’t be treated like a suspect on my way out the door.
You can’t automate trust.
To the companies who built their empires on customers and workers alike—this isn’t progress. It’s a quiet step backward, dressed up as convenience. The kind of change that makes life a little colder, a little lonelier, and a lot less fair.
To every shopper who feels the same—remember this: you’re not an employee. You’re not unpaid labor. You’re a customer, and your time, your effort, and your presence matter.
If this hits home, share it. Because this isn’t just about receipts and scanners. It’s about people. It’s about dignity. It’s about remembering that not everything worth saving can be automated.
We’re not cashiers. We’re customers.
And maybe, it’s time we reminded them of that.
Inside The Chase star Mark Labbett has been left devastated after making a heartbreaking statement to his wife Katie.
Mark Labbett, known to millions as The Beast on the hit ITV quiz show The Chase, has long been admired as one of television’s most formidable quiz champions. With his towering presence, razor-sharp intellect, and ability to outsmart even the brightest contestants, he quickly established himself as one of the toughest Chasers to defeat. To audiences, he is a symbol of knowledge, wit, and strength, but behind the camera, his personal life has been filled with both love and heartbreak.
Born in 1965, Mark has spent decades building his reputation as a quiz master, not only in the UK but also internationally, appearing on versions of The Chase around the world. As he turned sixty in August 2025, fans celebrated his career and resilience, but his reflections on love and family revealed a more vulnerable side to the man so many see as invincible.
His relationship with Katie, a woman more than twenty years his junior, captured headlines from the very beginning. The couple first connected through Facebook in 2010, and what started as a casual online friendship blossomed into romance. Their chemistry was undeniable, and in 2014 they tied the knot. Yet soon after, an extraordinary truth came to light: Mark and Katie were actually related. Their fathers were first cousins, which technically made them second cousins themselves. Neither of them had known about this connection beforehand, and when it surfaced, it shocked both families as well as the public. Mark later explained that it was something neither of them could have anticipated.
Despite the unusual circumstances, the couple built a family together and welcomed a son, sharing joyful moments both privately and publicly. For several years they appeared blissfully happy, attending red-carpet events hand in hand, with Mark often praising Katie for her role as a supportive partner and loving mother. But cracks began to show, and in 2019 their marriage faced a dramatic turning point when Katie admitted she had been seeing another man, design engineer Scott Bate.
Rather than ending things immediately, Mark surprised many by agreeing to try an open marriage. His reasoning was pragmatic: he did not want to give up on his family without exhausting every possibility. He later explained that he had already suspected something was happening, but when Katie confessed, he tried to find a way forward. “It was spilled milk,” he admitted in an interview, “and the question was what we could do to make it okay. We had a family. We couldn’t just throw that away lightly.” For a time, he tried to accept the arrangement, determined to preserve stability for their son.
However, the strain eventually proved too great. In August 2020, after five years of marriage, the couple announced their separation. Mark revealed that the pressures of the pandemic had created what he called “the perfect storm” that ultimately ended their relationship. The revelation devastated him, and while he has remained remarkably dignified in public, those close to him have spoken about the pain he endured in private.
Following the divorce, Mark redirected his focus toward his health, embarking on a remarkable weight loss journey. At his heaviest, he weighed nearly twenty-seven stone, and doctors issued him stern warnings about the risks to his long-term health. A frightening bout with COVID-19 intensified his concerns, as he experienced severe symptoms including fever, exhaustion, and a complete loss of appetite. For two weeks he could barely eat, and when he began to recover, he chose to continue eating sensibly and exercising. The transformation was dramatic: he shed more than five stone, reducing his weight to twenty-two stone and earning widespread praise for his determination.
Mark has always preferred to keep most aspects of his private life away from public scrutiny, yet the unusual details of his marriage and divorce have continued to spark public fascination. Despite the challenges, he has tried to maintain an amicable relationship with Katie for the sake of their son, while also focusing on rebuilding his personal happiness.
Recently, he returned to television in a new light, appearing on the reality dating series Celebs Go Dating. The show offered viewers a rare glimpse of the man behind The Beast, revealing someone who, despite his commanding persona on quiz shows, is still searching for love and companionship. Fans have admired his openness and willingness to step into unfamiliar territory, proving that even the toughest quiz master is not immune to matters of the heart.
As Mark celebrates his sixtieth birthday, he stands at a crossroads. His legacy as one of Britain’s greatest quiz champions is already secure, but his journey as a man continues to evolve. He has endured the sting of heartbreak, the challenges of public scrutiny, and the struggle for better health, yet he has also shown resilience, grace, and the courage to keep moving forward. Behind the nickname The Beast lies someone deeply human: vulnerable, determined, and still hopeful for a new chapter.
