The Price We Pay for Convenience

When I was a teenager, I had five lights in my bedroom. One was the overhead. They call it a boob light now, which is hilarious. That was the first one to go out as I settled into my bed for evening reading. I had to get up to turn it off, so I had to be really annoyed by all the extra light to put forth the effort. The second two were on pullstrings that hung in my very open-plan closet. I usually got those two at the same time. The next was a lamp by my mirror. It was hideous, but it gave off a pretty light, so I liked it. By then, I was down to one light by my bed that I didn't have to stand up to turn off. It was a touch lamp that you could whack in any way at all to make it turn on to three different levels of brightness. I bought it for $13, and it was one of my favourite objects as a teen.

Imagine it, if you will, teenage me cuddled up in my bed with a quilt on it that my grandma and aunt made for me for Christmas, tucked in with a hardback book in my hands. I'm reading about a moody nobleman with a mad wife in the attic, and I'm being blinded by a boob light with two 100w bulbs in it. I'm so comfortable in my bed, I could literally die there peacefully, and I have to get up to turn off the frickin' light.

Can you imagine my insane love for the words, "Hey Google, turn off lights"? Can you even imagine it? I didn't even have to slap a lamp to achieve complete darkness in two seconds. Google turns off the closet lights, too. It is amazing.

Then today, I gave Google an instruction about the lights, and do you know what Google said to me? I bet some of you know.

It said, "Would you please rate our service between one and five, with five being the highest and one being the lowest?"

Now, in the time that it takes Google to say that, I can cross my room from under my current boob light to the light switch myself twice. And you know what? I think I'd rather. It reminds me of something specific.

Suddenly, I'm back in the 90s with a woman with a large bottom. She's sitting in a chair that has molded to her body. She doesn't move. She orders the people around her to do these little jobs for her.

"Can you run out to the car to get...?" and it's done.

"Can you grab that thing on the...?" and someone has done it.

"Can you find the phone and call...?" The list goes on.

I used to watch that woman (there were a lot of them), and I would think to myself, 'I'm not going to become like you. When I want something, I'm going to get off my butt and get it myself.' It has massively shaped my personality.

Now, if you go back to that woman and you put yourself in the position of the child who is taking orders from that woman, ask yourself this question. "Would she like to be told that you need praise for turning the light on or off?"

Yes, she should say thank you, but what if you asked her to rate your performance between one and five?

I bet you'd die the second time you asked her. So, should Google be asking you?

Now that I am a woman with a wider bottom and a chair. I did vow to myself that I would not be that woman, and I have tried my best, but I have a lot more sympathy for her now than I ever had before. I get asked to do all sorts of tasks that are simple, but somehow intolerable, and I'd rather ask an app to do it than a person. Light switches are only the beginning.

For example, I would like a clapper.

I know you think I'm talking about a light switch that is sensitive to sound rather than touch, so you clap, and the lights go off. Yes, that would be helpful, but I mean a person who goes along with me who claps when appropriate, so I don't have to. I was at a kids' award ceremony last week, and whacking the fleshless bones of my hands together every two minutes was agony. Even pretending to clap was excruciating. Can't I get someone to come along with me to do it? Can't I get an app to clap for me rather than punish another human being by making them sit through another award ceremony?

I also use a bell app on my phone when I help my kids study. They press the bell, and I know they're ready for the next question. Then, I don't need to own a bell. I do not want to own a bell. There's a reason why bell rhymes with hell. My mom used to scream, "Hell's bells!" Anyway, at the end, I can take the bell away, and he can't get it. It's my phone. It's on my person at all times like the keys on the Victorian nurse's belt.

I also do not have an address book. My mother used to have one, and it got lost all the time. Finding it was a major chore. Now I scream, "Okay Google, find my phone." Then my phone bings. It doesn't have an address list. I just text people and ask for their address every single time I need it.

So, if we use technology to do the terrible, awkward things we do not want to do ourselves... Might it be appropriate to exchange the word Thank-you with the word Five? Apps don't need thanks, they need fives.