No Quiero Taco Bell
I love Taco Bell. Standard order: three regular, crunchy tacos, one chicken soft taco. Sometimes I’ll throw chips and cheese in there. Sometimes it’s a Crunch Wrap Supreme. Regardless of my order, I can count on Taco Bell delivering me perfectly Taco Bell-quality food. Taco Bell isn’t really serving quality tacos—it’s serving Taco Bell-quality tacos. If you want tacos, Taco Bell will scratch the itch, but if you want Taco Bell, no other taco will do the trick. Just like if you want a burger, McDonald’s will do, but nothing will satiate your craving for a McDonald’s burger (or Chicken McNuggets) like McDonald’s.
Though, if I had to choose my preferred taco-themed quick-service restaurant (QSR), I’d choose Del Taco every time. Better quality, better price. Same standard order. To that point, the other day, I snuck in a brief nap on the couch while my kids quietly watched KPop Demon Hunters. In that nap, I dreamt of Del Taco. When I woke, I told the boys, “C’mon. Dad needs Taco Bell,” because there are no Del Tacos in Chicago and the dreamt craving wasn’t worth the drive to Oak Lawn where, apparently, there is a Del Taco (something I’ll have to check out). Settling for Taco Bell in lieu of Del Taco is an exercise in mastering disappointment. And I’m fine with it.
So, I loaded the kids into the car and we made a quick run for the border to our local Taco Bell. After navigating the parking lot of three cars taking up five-and-a-half spaces, we parked and headed in. Because you can’t get Taco Bell to go. It must be eaten immediately so the meat grease doesn’t turn the crunchy shell into a soggy mess. I guess I hadn’t been to this Bell in a while because I was surprised by the self-ordering kiosks. I rolled my eyes but started putting my order in then quickly became annoyed.
Why am I doing this? Why am I having to navigate a menu when I could just tell an employee my order with greater speed and ease because they know better how to navigate this thing? And while I was planning on using my credit card to pay, what if I wanted to use cash? What if someone who doesn’t have a credit card, like, say, a homeless person scrounges up enough money for a Crunch Wrap Supreme? How are they to make the purchase and feed themselves? It’s rare that I feel this way, but I felt… offended.
While no one was standing at the counter—where there was a register—I grabbed the attention of one of the workers assembling the food. “Can I order from you?” I asked.
“No. You have to use the kiosk.”
“I have to? I’d prefer to give you my order and pay you directly. Why can’t I do that?”
The guy shrugged and said, “It’s policy.”
Self-ordering kiosks are a thing at QSRs. Taco Bell implemented them in 2019 and is leading the trend. Frankly, I’m surprised I hadn’t come across them sooner. The Bell teamed up with everyone’s favorite consulting firm, Deloitte, to roll these things out. And their thinking behind the move—ripped straight from Deloitte Digital’s case study—goes like this: “As our everyday lives revolve around swiping, scrolling, and tapping, Taco Bell knew they needed to evolve their customer experience to match. Their solution? Self-service ordering kiosks—the latest innovative technology in the quick serve restaurant (QSR) world. By putting the ordering power in customers’ hands and freeing up staff to improve kitchen efficiency, these kiosks can exceed expectations from start to finish.”
And, okay, sure. Maybe the workers can focus on perfecting the meat-to-cheese-to-lettuce ratio without having to bother with customers, but that’s not what’s really happening. Because at the end of the day, it’s still Taco Bell, not Alinea. It’s not even your neighborhood taco truck, which does just fine having humans take the orders and assemble the food. But it does allow us to move from one scrolling screen to another with little to no downtime, Deloitte is right about that. However, that’s not really in our best interest.
A study published in SSM – Population Health, a peer-reviewed social science research journal, “Social connectedness is essential for health and longevity, while isolation exacts a heavy toll on individuals and society.” These kiosks have removed the human interaction, which does not bode well for our escalating loneliness problem. And while interacting with humans can be an infuriating experience, avoiding it all together does nothing to build our patience for people and resistance to social anxieties. In a very direct way, ordering from a Taco Bell kiosk is wreaking havoc on the fraying Social Contract.
But I’m in the minority here. I know. Some stats show that 78 percent of QSR diners prefer the kiosks because it allows them to customize their orders quickly and avoid human error. Which I call bullshit on. Because there’s still a human doing the work, it’s just not someone fluent in the Taco Bell—or any other restaurant—digital menu UX. Even with practice, it would take me longer to kiosk my own order compared to rattling it off with any customizations to the pro at the register. But, again, I’m admitting that the kiosks are not geared toward me. And that’s due, in no small part, to my age.
When I Googled “Taco Bell self-kiosk,” the AI Overview answer read as: “Taco Bell's self-service kiosks, often featuring Elo touchscreens, allow users to customize meals, browse the menu, and pay via card, providing an improved, error-reducing experience. While designed for efficiency, they sometimes present challenges for, as some users on Facebook report, older customers.” Older customers. So I visited the Taco Bell Complaints Department group on Facebook. And, sure as shit, it’s a bunch of olds yelling at clouds, griping about the Modern Future of Today.
We’re not going back. This is the way of things. Especially since Taco Bell has experienced an increase in sales. Deloitte might spin this to give credit to the customer experience of briefly shifting from doom scrolling to food scrolling, but according to a quote in Nation’s Restaurant News from David Gibbs, the former CEO of Taco Bell’s parent company Yum! Brands, the increase in sales last year was because, “Value stands out. And innovation—nobody else sells anything close to what we sell.” So, is the move really about the customer experience while ordering, or is it a way to cut worker costs? Both things can be true at the same time, so don’t tell me this has nothing to do with late-stage American Capitalism.
Thing is, I’m not opposed to efficiency through technology. I’m not opposed to things changing. What I’m opposed to is being forced to stare and navigate another screen. I’m opposed to coming into a restaurant, even a quick-service one, and being forced to service myself. (Yeah, I see the accidental joke.) I shouldn’t have to do the work Taco Bell employees have been doing with Taco Bell quality since 1962. It’s the same reason so many of us don’t tip the Starbucks barista for doing exactly what we expect them to do, which is to make a drink and put it on the counter. No extra frills needed. No additional experience required. You’re doing your job and you’re doing great, and that’s what the paycheck is for. A simple rule: If I’m standing and you’re standing, you’re not getting tipped. Of course, exceptions always apply. But don’t make me work for my food. I did that already. At my job. Just do yours. And let’s treat ourselves to the simplest form of human interaction.
But, fine. I’m old. The Modern Future of Today is not for me. I’m a malcontent grump. But I’m also wily.
“I have to? I’d prefer to give you my order and pay you directly. Why can’t I do that?” I said to the worker.
The guy shrugged and said, “It’s policy.”
“Fuck this,” I said under my breath, though I’m sure my kids heard me. “Come on, guys. I have a plan.” I walked the kids back out to the car and we drove through the drive-thru. I placed my order to a human. The same human who couldn’t take my order in the store because Taco Bell’s policy is to not engage with its beloved customers. I rolled up to the window, the guy handed me my order, was generous with the Fire sauce, and off we went. Back to the Taco Bell parking lot. Parked in the same spot I was in three minutes ago. The boys and I got out of the car and walked back into the restaurant, claimed a table, and dove into our food. Because, remember, you have to eat Taco Bell immediately.
And I wasn’t annoyed by any of this. It’s a simple hack I can use to place my order swiftly without having to do it myself. Best of all, it’s my polite way of telling the self-ordering kiosks to go fuck themselves.
And what’s worse. I’m not even a grumpy old man. I’m a hypocrite. Because just a few nights later, on my own, wholly unmotivated to make anything to eat for myself, not even a sandwich, I ordered from Philly Bros via Uber Eats. I scrolled a digital menu. Made my choices. Then I watched the delivery guy drop it off and snap a photo of it through my Nest camera so I wouldn’t have to interact with him.
It was a delicious meal. One worth dreaming about. And one that I’ll miss when the coming world war decimates our technological creature comforts.
