We go to the grocery store every Saturday morning at 7:00.

Over the years, we’ve gotten to know the people who work there. Rob, the produce manager. Henry at the service desk. Debbie in dairy. Last week, we met Danny, the Coca-Cola vendor who comes in to restock the shelves.

We check out in the same lane every Saturday too. Kendra’s the cashier, and Tammy is the bagger. We’ve always enjoyed the conversation and banter.

How’s your week been? Is your mom feeling better? What are you going to do on your day off?

Small-town stuff, even though our town isn’t all that small.

Lately, though, there’s been a lot less banter and a lot more hurry.

The grocery store chain has decided to evaluate its cashiers based, at least in part, on how many items they scan per minute. They get an RPM score. Rings Per Minute.

The more things you ring up, the better your score. The better your score, the better your chances of keeping your job, getting more hours, maybe earning a raise.

So you can’t waste too much time with idle chit-chat.

Over the last few weeks, we’ve felt something precious beginning to slip away. The time to connect.

There’s nothing wrong with efficiency. Nobody wants to stand in a checkout line for half an hour while their ice cream melts.

But there’s a danger when efficiency becomes the measure of everything.

Because once speed becomes the metric, the conversation with Kendra becomes a problem. Asking about her mom slows things down. A laugh becomes inefficiency. A moment of connection becomes wasted time.

We’re hearing a lot these days about artificial intelligence. People are worried about machines becoming more human, about AI replacing jobs and changing the way we work.

Those are legitimate concerns.

But I wonder whether there’s another danger we should be paying attention to. Long before machines become more human, are we asking humans to become more like machines?

Faster. More productive. More measurable.

We do it in lots of places. We measure billable hours. Calls per day. Patients per hour. Packages delivered. Emails answered. Sales closed. Tasks completed.

Metrics can be useful. But they can also quietly teach us what matters.

And what gets left off the dashboard can begin to disappear.

What if, instead of RPM, we measured SPM?

Smiles Per Minute.

How many customers did you greet by name? How many people left feeling a little lighter than when they arrived? How often did somebody feel seen instead of processed?

Those numbers would be harder to measure.

But they might tell us something more important.

We’re wired for connection. We need the small encounters that remind us we belong to one another. The conversation at the checkout counter. The smile from the barista. The person who remembers your name.

None of it is especially efficient.

But maybe efficiency isn’t always the point.

Saturday morning, we’ll be back in Kendra’s line.

I hope her RPM is good enough to keep the bosses happy.

But I hope there’s still enough room for a smile, a laugh, and a little conversation.

Because some things are worth slowing down for.