Will Amazon's 'No Checkout' Grocery Store Really Change How We Shop?

Living in Seattle has its perks: There’s the coffee, the mountains, and sometimes, the opportunity to potentially see the future.

Like on Monday, when Amazon gave us a peek into what people are calling the future of shopping—not online, not with two-hour shipping, but in an old-fashioned brick-and-mortar store. AmazonGo, as they've called it, promises: “No Lines. No Checkout.” The premise: You walk in, you grab what you need, you leave. Your Amazon account is charged for what you took. They call it “Just Walk Out” shopping. It sounds a little weird, in a “Wait, why do we need this?” sort of way, but of course, I had to try it.

First, a little about my usual shopping habits: I hit at least one supermarket every day. I work from home, so I hit one of the two grocery stores a couple blocks from my house to break up my workday, usually grabbing lunch and buying ingredients for dinner at the same time. At that time of day, there’s rarely a line anyway, and it’s nice to have a conversation with real human, even if they’re just asking me what I plan on doing with that arugula in my basket. But if I don’t remember I need things for dinner until the after-work rush hour, then I kinda dread a long grocery checkout line and the crankiness it triggers in everyone.

So I wanted to see if AmazonGo would solve that. I headed over to the store, located at the bottom of the company's headquarters and about a mile from my apartment, just at the after-work rush for a couple of items I needed for dinner. Ironically, all that hype about “No Wait” to checkout meant there was a line to get in. (The pint-sized store can only fit so many shoppers at once, apparently.) Friendly greeters in Amazon orange coats passed out free grocery bags and made sure everyone in line had downloaded the AmazonGo app. Once the app is connected to your Amazon account (and your credit card), it gives you a QR code that is your Golden Ticket in. (There are also tabs on the app to browse what’s actually available at the store that day.)

After an eight-minute wait, I scanned my phone over a little entrance gate and walked in. The space was bright and bustling and even smaller than I expected—the offerings are more like what you'd find at a convenience store than a typical grocery store. I started hunting for pasta—I was making chicken noodle soup for dinner—but I quickly was distracted by all of the prepared food. There's a big industrial kitchen and you can watch cooks put together the sandwiches, wraps, and salads, and these get plenty of real estate, about half the store, along with individually sold beverages and a wall of breakfast baked goods.

I also wanted to pick up a nice loaf of bread for my soup, so I took a look at the wall that said “Bakery.” While some of the croissants and individually wrapped bagels looked delicious—and I was pleased to see they were from mostly local Seattle bakeries—there was no bread loaf there. And many of the cookies and muffins were sold out.

I turned to the other side of the store, marked with a sign that said “Eat Later,” to see if I could find the bread and pasta I was looking for. Past another cold case full of dairy products, I found a shelf for pasta, grains, and soup. While there were several types of mac and cheese, there were just three types of pasta, none of which was exactly what I wanted to use, and boxes were $3.49 a pop, much more expensive than the dollar or two I knew I could get them for at the grocery store closer to my place. But the brand was good, so I grabbed a box of penne and tossed it in my bag.

You don’t need to scan any items or use your phone at all once you’re in the store, because the technology they’re using in AmazonGo isn’t tracking your phone, it’s tracking you. Overhead there are rows of cameras that, according to Amazon, use technology similar to what's in self-driving cars: “computer vision, sensor fusion, and deep learning.” So once you scan in with your phone, the camera knows whatever thing it sees you pick up should be charged to your account. If you put it back, theoretically, you shouldn’t be charged for it. You can even scan in a friend with your phone and then you’ll also be charged for whatever they pick up and walk out with. But, as the app warns you in a quick demo, if you’re shopping at the same time as a friend on separate accounts, you can’t pick up something for them and put it in their bag. If you do, you’ll be buying your friend lunch.

After a couple more loops around the store, past Amazon meal kits, a beer and wine section (where an employee will check your ID if you pick anything up) and a few more shelves of high-end pantry items, like nut butters, jelly, granola bars, chips and condiments, I finally found a loaf of bake-at-home bread that would do for soup night. On one last glance at the front of the store, I got tempted by a bottle of mint elderflower sparkling water, so I threw that in too.

And then I just walked out. A couple of minutes later, while I was still processing whether the experience was weird or cool, I got a notification on my phone saying my receipt was ready. I was immediately given the opportunity to swipe on any product for a refund if there was mistake, but the three items in my bag were accurately listed. With all my walking around the store wide-eyed, snapping some photos, and hunting for my items, the whole thing had taken just 7 minutes and 15 seconds—less than the 8-minute wait to get in.

Amazon likes to use Seattle as its testing ground for whatever next big thing they want to roll out. Last fall there was AmazonKey, which let a delivery person into your house so your packages aren’t left outside, and PrimeNow delivery—that’s your Amazon order delivered in one to two hours—for when Same-Day delivery of whatever you just bought isn’t fast enough.

Those haven't revolutionized the world…yet. Will AmazonGo? Maybe. I'm not sure the overall speed of the whole experience was necessarily worth the steeper price tag on most products and I missed the bigger selection of my go-to grocery stores. I'm also not super into Big Brother literally watching me pick out my groceries; thinking about that once I got home was a little creepy.

But in the moment, it was pretty easy to forget they were even watching me (and the cameras are discreetly hidden against the black ceiling). Plus, if you're a regular online shopper, someone is already tracking your purchases. (We'll see if Amazon somehow collects the data on what I bought and starts sending me pop-up ads.) If Amazon implements this at Whole Foods, I'd be more interested. (The company has said they have "no plans" to do so.) And I'd sign up for this kind of shopping at, say, a drugstore where you don't want any side eye on more-personal purchases. But for now, I'll be sticking with my regular grocery stores, and the humans I get to talk to while I'm there.