We can buy anything we want at the click of a button. But it is costing us more in other ways

My grandfather ran a draper’s shop in Manchester in the UK before, during and after World War II. In those days, retailers had a relationship with those who purchased their wares, particularly if they were regular customers. The people behind the counter gave advice, to those looking to buy, about what would work best for their purposes, and so were often able to sell them a few other items that would make their task easier. The exchange between seller and buyer was not just monetary. It was social, mutually beneficial and human.

Shopkeeper and customer are both respectful terms, descriptions of roles in society that were important to keep the wheels of commerce turning. In those days, running a successful shop – my grandfather was about to expand his little draper’s empire into three until WWII intervened and put the dampeners on his plans; at the age of 39 he was called up to serve in the Eighth Army – relied on having a wide range of satisfied and regular customers. The customer, as they used to say in those days, was always right, and if you wanted them to return, you had to treat them courteously, no matter what.

One of the most important members of any community used to be the bank manager. He is long gone and so are we.

JANE CARO

Many decades later I can still recall my marketing executive father’s enthusiasm for what he called “self-serve supermarkets” in the 1960s. He also waxed lyrical about things in the United States called hypermarkets. I think they are what became the Kmarts of today. It was right around then that the word “customer” began to be replaced by the word “consumer”, and I suppose that makes sense because supermarkets and hypermarkets were all about streamlining the process of shopping and making it more efficient. Supermarkets would be better, consumers were told, because they would enable retailers to lower prices by buying in bulk and reducing staff. No doubt they were better in many ways, especially at increasing retail profits, but they also began the dehumanisation of the marketplace.

When I think of a customer I think of a person – usually, but not always, a woman with a shopping basket and a list. We still have some shops that sell to customers: bespoke butcher’s, bookshops, expensive delis and patisseries. One of the most important members of any community used to be the bank manager. We accepted less-than-top-notch products from our bank for decades because the manager of our local branch was such a lovely and helpful person. He is long gone and so are we. The job of a customer is to give their custom to the retailers they choose. They make a conscious decision about what they want to buy and who they want to buy it from.

When I think of a consumer I do not see a person. I see a worm-like creature with a gigantic open mouth being stuffed full of consumer goods that are being swallowed into a misshapen digestive tract that ends in an anus through which waste is endlessly excreted. The job of a consumer is to consume endlessly and voraciously. Consumers don’t make decisions, they just compulsively serve their own greed and that of the corporations pushing goods into their open maws. There are no individuals really involved in consumption; it is a group activity. It must be if anyone is going to make a profit.

The indignity of being a consumer is one thing, and led to a huge fall in the level of service shoppers came to expect or receive, but things are so much worse today. I now find it difficult to think of those of us who buy things (and that’s everybody, I suppose) as much more than prey. We now find ourselves unable to contact any kind of human being if a purchase or transaction goes wrong. I recently bought a new Fitbit from an online retailer. I could not get it to pair with my phone. I even got my IT guy to try to help me get it working – no joy. The only contact I could get with the Australian-based retailer was via an AI chatbot. It gave me endless instructions, none of which helped. In the end, in disgust, I threw the Fitbit in the bin.

Every product is a click away, thanks to Amazon, delivery services and streamers, and yet it’s exhausting and joyless. The amount of time it can take to find a TV program you want to watch via a streamer you pay for – passwords, verification numbers, confirmation emails, you name it – makes the whole process the opposite of relaxing. We are bombarded with ads, some selling us legitimate products but many attempting to scam us. I have stopped buying any clothes on the internet. When they arrive they never live up to the picture of the garment I saw online. We are there to be gouged, exploited, conned and ripped off.

I’ll pay a little extra to be treated as a customer. I can put up with being a consumer if there’s no other option, but if I even vaguely suspect I am being regarded as prey, I will take my custom elsewhere.

More from our Sunday Life columnists

Get the best of Sunday Life magazine delivered to your inbox every Sunday morning. Sign up for our newsletter.