Are Robots Making Us Forget The Manners Mama Taught?

Fast-food chain Wendy’s recently opened a location not far from my house—a real boon for me, a lover of square-pattied cheeseburgers and hot-and-crispy fries. The red-headed girl heralded her arrival on the block with an enormous inflatable Frosty and freshly installed signage, but on my first trip down the drive-thru lane, it was another development that piqued my curiosity (and made me clutch my proverbial pearls): voice-enabled AI ordering.

Rather than a cashier taking my order through a fuzzy speaker, a talking, computerized system jotted it down, tracking my substitutions and every ketchup-covered whim on the brightly lit screen. 

I found myself talking to the AI interface as if it were a person: “Hello! May I please have… Oh, and a honey mustard, please? That’s all! Thank you.” If the driver behind me had been listening to the interaction, they might’ve assumed I was engaging with a human being, rather than a computerized voice. But admittedly, I felt a little silly. Why was I using my best manners with a chatbot, whose day wouldn’t be altered in the slightest by whether or not I dealt in niceties? 

When I pulled around to the window, a real, live human handed me my order, which to my delight and surprise, came out perfectly, down to the half-and-half tea. I thanked her for my meal, she invited me to come again, and I drove off content with the entire experience.

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Why I’m Not All-In on the Robots

But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I worry about these little alterations in our everyday interactions. A robot doesn’t welcome tiny talk or encourage polite requests. How do you teach your child to “Say thank you to the nice AI,” or “Look the chatbot in the eye when you talk to him!”? 

It’s just not the same as taking your time in the checkout line at Publix so you can catch up with your favorite cashier, Ms. Debra, or asking Bobby, who helms the local soda fountain, about his go-to addition to the limeade. These tiny interactions are at the very core of who we are, and when we lose those, we miss out on the opportunity to build a daily life that’s luxurious with interpersonal connections and unexpected friendships.

So next time I get a hankering for a square-pattied cheeseburger and some hot-and-crispy fries, I’ll walk myself inside and order from the real, live human behind the counter, no matter what kind of mood they’re in—at this point, I’ll take even the crankiest cashier over an artificial one.