We don’t serve your kind.
A dispatch from the cyberghetto.
Meanwhile, friends, everyday commerce is being outfitted with ID verification services like those offered by companies such as Clear.
One Sunday evening in Boise, Idaho, Clear’s services were being hard-sold with the promise that I’d be able to “skip the line.” I took the bait, not quite noticing that, on a Sunday evening in Boise, there is no line. It was after all a free trial (with payment information provided). Coming to my senses at home the next day and seeing no real need for it, I decided to “opt out” of the service. (While attempting to do this, the help links started going in circles, and I had to email technical support for assistance. To their credit, they responded in a timely fashion and were quite helpful.)
In a commercial setting, Clear’s process requires the consumer to “prove” his identity before being allowed to transact any business. At checkout, the hopeful customer must scan his “Real ID®” (i.e., driver’s license) with his phone and then perform a biometric facial scan (aka take a “selfie”). If everything is working correctly, his data is uploaded on the spot to Clear. Presumably, an ID check is conducted against whatever personally unique information is linked to his Real ID®, along with some facial recognition “magic” to match his selfie to his actual ID photo and, it would seem to his photo in Clear’s database, should there somehow be one there.
Clear’s process looks suspiciously similar to the “avoid the line” gimmick that rental car companies offer. Curiously, the very same system was in use a year later at a local Home Depot, where I planned to rent a truck one afternoon to move furniture. I booked the rental like I had numerous times over the years, only this time I was told, “Bring your phone.” Hmmm… OK.
I had set aside this particular time to move a leather couch to my sister-in-law’s new home. Because it was late on a Friday afternoon, the logistics were a bit touchy: the origination point closed soon, and the rental was only guaranteed for so long. For added drama, the weather was as ominous as it ever is in Florida at this time of the year. To nudge all of the pieces into place in a timely fashion, I planned to parallel process: my son (currently inching through his afternoon commute) would get the couch with his pickup truck while I rented the box truck. We would, as quickly as possible, meet to transfer the couch to the box truck, which we would use to deliver it, safe from the weather.
Clear’s pitch to businesses is to deliver “frictionless” ID verification, which, translated, means eliminating human judgment regarding the customer's ID at the point of sale. Verification is adjudicated by its “algorithm,” supported by its database of “previously verified users” (many from the airport, no doubt). Unlike at the airport, however, the verdict of The System is final. “No manager can override it,” advised Home Depot Guy. Better make sure you have a "Real ID®” if you want to avoid the “No Buy” list. And “bring your phone.”
Not surprisingly, The System can fail for a variety of reasons (that’s how I know that no manager can override it). A few obvious ways: say the customer, distracted and perhaps in a rush at the register, enters personal info incorrectly three times in a row. He will receive a "Sorry, Try Again Later" message. If the network connection is spotty; if he forgets his phone or its charge runs out; if he has shaved or is having a bad hair day; if he otherwise fails to satisfactorily match his selfie to his Real ID® photo, his transaction is declined. And what if he has a flip-phone or no phone at all? “Then you don’t rent here,” shrugged Home Depot Guy.
(Now maybe if he had some indelible mark on his face, say on his forehead; a mark that remained, no matter how bad his hair day; no matter how old, tanned, wrinkled, de-wrinkled, or pale his face has become; no matter what gender or species he identified as that week… a mark that would always satisfy the “selfie” test and free him to go about his business — but I digress.)
Notwithstanding any of that, if The System rejects him, he walks out without the goods or services he intended to purchase, and his Plan A is dashed. Put another way, without the algorithm's approval, he cannot buy or sell (or rent).
By the time I arrived at Home Depot, this part of Florida was immersed in a classic afternoon downpour, exactly what I’d hoped to avoid with all that parallel processing. Long story short, I was confronted by Clear’s POS and surprise! Somehow I am already “in the system!” First weird thing: getting out of the Clear database might not be as easy as “opting out.” Like quicksand, I suppose.
Anyway, having explored several of the possible failure points listed above as I tried to complete the rental, I received the dreaded, “Selfie failed. Try again later” message. It was pouring rain and I had a leather couch to move, so I couldn’t hang around. I therefore left without a truck. “Hey, it’s not our fault. Look, we’ve had millions of dollars’ worth of equipment stol—” blah, blah, blah. I interrupted, politely, to point out the following: “Right now this doesn’t affect you. But today, Home Depot; tomorrow, the grocery store.”
Happily, there was no need to worry about the condition of the leather couch: my son had taken cover underneath an overhang and by the time we met up, the rain had diminished to a sprinkle — no match for his expertly fastened plastic tarp. We thus completed the mission, much to the delight of extended family and no thanks to The System.
I suppose delivery could have been arranged at the point of purchase, but then there’d be no story to tell, no adventure to be had, and who knows if/how/when the couch would have actually arrived?
May I suggest that we muse on whether using arbitrary, mechanical means—intentionally removing all human judgment—to allow or deny a person’s ability to conduct regular commerce might actually be unlawful, and hope that some thoughtful legal mind takes up the question?