Every day, it seems, technology finds a way to improve my life. World news is carefully curated for my convenience (with anything Kardashian-related blocked). I have apps devoted to great works of art and apps that allow me to peruse objets d’art (read: shoes). I can hone both my French and my trivia skills if I ever find myself in line—which rarely happens anymore, since I pre-order my coffee and have my groceries delivered with a few taps on my phone. I’ve ordered booze, massages and pedicures to the comfort of my home for the best weekend ever.
But as always, there’s a catch: Like the benefactor of free drinks at a bar, technology has totally turned into a stage-5 clinger. A barrage of incoming texts, emails and push notifications blow up my phone, each with a promotional variation on, “Hey, what are you doing tonight?” Some of them literally profess to miss me. Whoa. I shopped with you once, and it was fun, and you’re a cool store and everything, but I’m really busy right now. (And then I unsubscribe, because that was way too intense.)
Just the other day, while I was removing ingredients for my killer clafoutis, my smart fridge started beeping at me for apparently leaving the door open too long. Seriously? Now my fridge is nagging me?
Thanks to my phone settings, I do have some control over who can contact me and when, but wouldn’t it also be nice if companies had better game? Inundating me with messages will not work; be confident in what you have to offer and know that if you’re what I’m looking for, I’ll keep coming around.
In short: Don’t call me, babe. I’ll call you.