ESSAY
Express lanes for small purchases are still common in U.S. supermarkets, but they never took root in Japan despite being introduced in some places. The reason lies in differences in culture and systems, particularly in shopping habits and attitudes toward waiting in line.
→Browse 1990s American Supermarkets at a Glance
A Small Privilege at the Edge of the Checkout
In American supermarkets of the 1990s, there was a quiet little shortcut. At the very end of the checkout row—sometimes at both ends—stood a dedicated lane, slightly apart from the rest. A simple sign hung above it: “7 items or less.” The so-called quick register. A special lane reserved for those buying only a handful of items. For me back then, it was nothing short of brilliant.
The Luxury of Not Waiting in a Country of Small Purchases
In California, supermarkets are everywhere, while convenience stores—at least compared to Japan—are surprisingly scarce. So naturally, even small, casual purchases happen at supermarkets. And for those “just a few things” moments, this quick lane existed. The result was simple: almost no waiting. While others pushed carts piled high with groceries, I would glide forward with just a few items in hand. A faint sense of privilege, a touch of quiet efficiency. It felt like a system perfectly designed.
With a Bonus: “How Are You Doing Today, Sir?”
There was another small pleasure. At the register, I was almost always greeted the same way: “How are you doing today, sir?” A brief exchange, a phrase so routine it bordered on ritual—yet somehow, it felt good. A line with no waiting, and a few words of casual conversation. That combination added a subtle warmth to everyday life, and more than once, I caught myself thinking: “I wish we had this in Japan.” After returning home, I even wrote it on a comment card at my local supermarket—minus the “How are you doing today, sir?” part, but quite seriously.
Today — Still There, but Not Quite the Same
That quick register still exists in the United States today. It’s now commonly called the “Express lane.” You’ll see signs like “10 items or less” or “15 items or less,” still placed at the edges of many stores, much as before. Even the layout hasn’t changed. But the substance has shifted, quietly.
1. The Rules Have Softened
It used to feel precise—“up to 7 items,” no ambiguity. Now it’s different. “about 15 items.” That single word—“about”—says everything. The culture of strict counting has faded, replaced by something looser, more flexible.
2. In Practice, It’s Self-Regulated
More than anything, it has become a matter of manners. Even when someone clearly exceeds the limit, staff rarely intervene—it’s easier to avoid conflict. In other words, this lane now runs not on rules but on goodwill. And that goodwill, from time to time, is betrayed.
3. The Shift Toward Self-Checkout
Another major change: the quick register itself is gradually being replaced. Scan your items, pay on your own. For small purchases, it’s simply faster. In effect, self-checkout has become the new express lane. In some stores, the dedicated lane has all but disappeared.
Why Didn’t It Take Root in Japan?
So what happened in Japan? The answer is straightforward: it was tried in places, but never truly took hold. There are several reasons.
1. Supermarkets Aren’t for “Small Purchases”
Convenience stores are everywhere, already serving the role of quick, small shopping. A dedicated “few items” lane at supermarkets becomes somewhat redundant.
2. A Different Relationship with Lines
In the U.S.: “I don’t want to wait.” In Japan: “Waiting is part of the process.” Subtle, but significant.
3. The Problem with Drawing the Line
“How many items is too many?” In a culture that values rule-following, those who don’t comply stand out more—and tension builds. Ironically, stricter norms can create more friction.
4. A Different Path of Evolution
Japan simply chose another solution: self-checkout, semi-self checkout, scan-and-go. The result: there was no longer a need for an express lane at all.
In the End, Perhaps It Comes Down to This
Back then, I thought, “Such a convenient idea—Japan should have it too.” But looking back now, it feels different. In America, rules exist—but so does the freedom to ignore them. In Japan, rules are followed—but the system itself quietly disappears. It’s not a question of which is right. But that small privilege, tucked away at the edge of the checkout line, may have been reflecting something deeper—the quiet character of a place.