Recently, I went to the bank for a scheduled appointment to update personal account information. The building felt worn down, the entrance grimy. Inside, a line stretched to the door while a standing reception desk funneled everyone into the same waiting area. When I explained I had an appointment, I was met with a flat “What are you here for?” and directed toward a crowded couch. The scene felt less like a financial institution and more like a fast-food waiting area.
This is not an isolated experience or simply a bad interaction — it reflects a broader cultural shift in how American institutions now treat the people they serve. Unless you have money to hire concierge services in banking, medicine, or shopping, it's unlikley you'll be treated with care.
This “fast-food-ification” of American institutions signals a collapse in standards. When serious systems begin treating individuals like disposable transactions, public trust declines, along with the stability those institutions are meant to provide.
Institutions that once demanded professionalism and seriousness increasingly operate with fast-food standards: rushed interactions, impersonal systems, and little accountability. Banks, airlines, healthcare offices, and government agencies now prioritize efficiency and cost-cutting over trust and competence. While that model may work for ordering lunch, it erodes confidence when applied to systems responsible for people’s finances, safety, and well-being.
Banking is a clear example of this shift. According to FDIC data, thousands of U.S. bank branches have closed in the past decade alone. As physical locations disappear, entire communities are left with limited access to in-person financial services. While customers are increasingly told to “just do it online,” something essential is lost in the process. Physical branches offer more than convenience. They provide in-person financial counseling, cash services, and relationship-based banking that cannot be replicated through an app.
Major banks have openly embraced this shift. TD Bank, for example, plans to close dozens of branches by late 2026 in an effort to push more customers online, citing cost effectiveness. These closures don’t just eliminate buildings; they eliminate jobs, career paths, and institutional knowledge. As automation rises and physical branches disappear, that sense of stability erodes, leaving both employees and customers disillusioned. When banks hollow out their physical presence, they hollow out the idea that financial stewardship is a serious profession.
Automation itself isn’t the enemy. Convenience has its place. Airports now feature fully automated convenience stores where customers scan in, select items, and walk out without interacting with a single employee. In moments of urgency, that efficiency can be useful. But it raises an uncomfortable question: at what point does convenience replace care? At what point does service become optional, or even a luxury? That shift isn’t hypothetical. Nearly 67 percent of consumers report using a chatbot for customer support in the past year.
Other countries have embraced automation differently. In parts of Asia, robot waiters and fully automated service systems are becoming common for low-stakes interactions. But America has never been about doing things the cheapest way possible. It has been about doing them better.
We have an opportunity to lead by using automation where people prefer it, in quick transactions, simple requests, all while preserving human, English-speaking customer service for moments that require judgment, care, and accountability. Instead, we’re moving toward a model in which human help is seen as inefficient, optional, or even indulgent. That isn’t leadership. It’s abdication.
That question becomes impossible to ignore when human interaction is actively paywalled. Airlines like Frontier have made it structurally difficult to speak to a real agent, requiring customers to pay extra to resolve issues face-to-face. In these systems, being treated like a human isn’t standard; it's an upgrade.
This is the quiet cultural shift happening across American life. The message is no longer “we’re here to help,” but “figure it out yourself.” While self-sufficiency has always been an American virtue, there is a difference between personal responsibility and institutional abandonment. Somewhere along the way, “do it yourself” became “you’re on your own.”
Customer service used to be part of a brand’s identity. Sonic was once known for its skating carhops and distinctive experience. Today, many locations feel bare and dismal, stripped of the personality that once set them apart. It’s a small example, but it reflects a larger truth: when standards are abandoned, everything begins to feel interchangeable and disposable.
What’s lost in this shift isn’t just convenience, it’s trust. Institutions shape behavior. They teach people what to expect, what matters, and what is worth respecting. When systems meant to handle serious responsibilities adopt casual standards, they train the public to disengage, grow cynical, and stop believing that anyone is truly accountable.
Not everything should feel like Burger King. Some places should feel serious, because life is serious. And when institutions forget that, it’s not just customer service that breaks down. It’s the social contract that holds a society together.
