Consumers Have Lost All Power

Self-Checkout Somewhere Everywhere

I think I just experienced the prototype of the future if billionaires get everything they want.

You have to follow the whole story.

I walk into a coffee shop.

There is no one in the restaurant. Not a customer. Not an employee. Just the quiet hum of machines and the faint feeling that capitalism has finally reached its final form.

There is a sign that says:

“Scan QR Code To Order.”

Of course.

So I scan the code.

The app immediately asks for permission to access my phone, my location, my camera, and presumably my childhood memories.

Fine.

Next step: verify location by scanning another QR code… which of course requires camera access again. Because apparently the coffee machine needs visual confirmation that I am physically standing near caffeine.

After all that?

The app asks me for a tip.

At this point I haven't spoken to a human being, but the algorithm feels I should reward someone.

Fine.

I order coffee and a breakfast sandwich.

A few minutes later a machine slides my coffee onto the counter.

A human being then appears briefly to place cream on top.

Apparently the labor market has determined that a machine that pours coffee is cheaper than a machine that pours cream.

But my sandwich never arrives.

There is still no human visible anywhere.

So I start calling out into the void like Tom Hanks in Cast Away.

Eventually a person emerges from the back.

She says, very calmly:

“Sir, we don’t have waiters.”

Thanks Captain Obvious, I think.

I explain I never got my sandwich.

She says:

“Can I see your order?”

Now I look around.

I am literally the only person in the restaurant.

How many orders could you possibly have for one coffee and one sandwich?

But fine.

I open the app.

After navigating seventeen menus and a digital labyrinth designed by someone who clearly hates humanity, I find my order.

I show it to her.

She walks to the back.

Time passes.

Civilizations rise and fall.

Finally she bursts out of the kitchen.

“We’re out of eggs.”

Fantastic.

So I say:

“Ok, can I get a refund?”

She says:

“You have to go to the link in the text message the app sent you.”

I ask:

“You can’t give me a refund here?”

She replies:

“We can’t handle financial matters.”

Apparently breakfast sandwiches are now securities regulated under federal banking law.

I ask:

“Can I go in the App to get a refund”

“No through the link only”

She retorts

So I open the link.

The website asks for more information.

And more information.

And more information.

At this point I have provided enough personal data to qualify for a mortgage and possibly NATO clearance.

Then the website tells me:

My email cannot be used because it is already associated with another account.

For context, this is my DonTheDataGuy email I have used for almost 30 years.

So I create a new Gmail account.

Try again.

Now the website says:

“Potential fraud warning — this email was created within the last 24 hours.”

Of course it was.

Because you just told me I couldn’t use my other one.

At this point I am confident at least three completely different companies have collected my personal data from this transaction.

Every one of them is making money.

And I have successfully paid $34 for a cup of coffee while navigating their refund labyrinth.

Now to be clear…

I am an attorney and an AI tech guy.

I will eventually get my refund.

If necessary, I will reverse engineer their entire payment stack and subpoena someone’s cousin in Delaware.

But the average American would not.

And that’s the point.

This is the new business model:

Replace people with apps.

Replace service with friction.

Replace refunds with digital mazes.

Welcome to Crony Capitalism 3.0.

Where the machines make the coffee, the apps take the money, and the customer gets to play Escape Room: Breakfast Edition.