After I leave the store, I realize another piece of my humanity is chipped off. The cold mechanical sheen and faceless voice of the machine does nothing to warm

After I leave the store, I realize another piece of my humanity is chipped off. The cold mechanical sheen and faceless voice of the machine does nothing to warm my heart like a "how's your day?" from smiling lips of warm flesh. Food is now just another objective to tap onto the clipboard. A long passionless journey from farm to mouth, untouched by human hands. Tasteless mass production. /satire, almost