I actively hate the "self-service" lines at my local stores, and always opt for the lines with An Actual Human. I'll succumb only when I have no alternative, at which point I will hate it even more. Don't be the person in line behind me at that juncture.
I feel ya. I'm just come back from my local supermarket, where they just cut out two human lanes and replaced them with the automated checkouts. The attempt to nudge behaviour is not subtle
From the restaurant where we ate after my mother's funeral:
"The Days’ Inn Renfro is a classic 2-story motel, just off Interstate 75 in Mt. Vernon, Kentucky, sandwiched between an Arby’s and a Mexican place we call El Denny’s, because that’s what the building was before. El Denny’s has not one but two cutesy tray-carrying robots, which play music on the way to your table while blinking their onscreen cat eyes (and their turn signals)."
And maybe if the waiters were to rebel, it would be in order to reclaim their stolen rights to play 'The Waiter,' as if that were the victory for freedom. As each phase of this intelligence advances, it very cunningly erases memory (and all traces of its own operation), leaving at best the preceding stage or two. But it's been doing this for thousands of years...
“The door refused to open. It said, “Five cents, please.”
He searched his pockets. No more coins; nothing. “I’ll pay you tomorrow,” he told the door. Again he tried the knob. Again it remained locked tight. “What I pay you,” he informed it, “is in the nature of a gratuity; I don’t have to pay you.”
“I think otherwise,” the door said. “Look in the purchase contract you signed when you bought this conapt.”
In his desk drawer he found the contract; since signing it he had found it necessary to refer to the document many times. Sure enough; payment to his door for opening and shutting constituted a mandatory fee. Not a tip.
“You discover I’m right,” the door said. It sounded smug.
From the drawer beside the sink Joe Chip got a stainless steel knife; with it he began systematically to unscrew the bolt assembly of his apt’s money-gulping door.
“I’ll sue you,” the door said as the first screw fell out.
Joe Chip said, “I’ve never been sued by a door. But I guess I can live through it.”
Geat article! This post human world can't last because it removes all the reasons people have for living. And when that happens for long enough, we'll either rebel or die off.
Great Post! There should be a new term for this, like shrinkflation: you pay the same, but you get less product. Now, you pay the same or more and you have to do the serving, the ordering, the packing.
"This simulacrum of friendliness inspires warlike feelings in me."
Oh, I feel you man!
Mind you, Substack makes me feel similarly, so maybe I've an even more violent soul ;)
You can join my longship!
I was eating something when I read that line and had to stop from reacting! LOL
I actively hate the "self-service" lines at my local stores, and always opt for the lines with An Actual Human. I'll succumb only when I have no alternative, at which point I will hate it even more. Don't be the person in line behind me at that juncture.
I feel ya. I'm just come back from my local supermarket, where they just cut out two human lanes and replaced them with the automated checkouts. The attempt to nudge behaviour is not subtle
"I weep for the future." 😎✌️
To be a commodity, or not to be a commodity, is that a significant question (prompt)?
Is my life truly tied-up and bound by a parasitic economic system, or do better angels have agency in this “data driven dynamic”?
From the restaurant where we ate after my mother's funeral:
"The Days’ Inn Renfro is a classic 2-story motel, just off Interstate 75 in Mt. Vernon, Kentucky, sandwiched between an Arby’s and a Mexican place we call El Denny’s, because that’s what the building was before. El Denny’s has not one but two cutesy tray-carrying robots, which play music on the way to your table while blinking their onscreen cat eyes (and their turn signals)."
https://randallhayes.substack.com/p/i-was-a-teenage-mothman-part-2
They're everywhere!
Do appreciate when your dark side comes out. Keep spreading the good word, we need you out here
Scott, another great post on technology, capitalism, and the human predicament.
And maybe if the waiters were to rebel, it would be in order to reclaim their stolen rights to play 'The Waiter,' as if that were the victory for freedom. As each phase of this intelligence advances, it very cunningly erases memory (and all traces of its own operation), leaving at best the preceding stage or two. But it's been doing this for thousands of years...
“The door refused to open. It said, “Five cents, please.”
He searched his pockets. No more coins; nothing. “I’ll pay you tomorrow,” he told the door. Again he tried the knob. Again it remained locked tight. “What I pay you,” he informed it, “is in the nature of a gratuity; I don’t have to pay you.”
“I think otherwise,” the door said. “Look in the purchase contract you signed when you bought this conapt.”
In his desk drawer he found the contract; since signing it he had found it necessary to refer to the document many times. Sure enough; payment to his door for opening and shutting constituted a mandatory fee. Not a tip.
“You discover I’m right,” the door said. It sounded smug.
From the drawer beside the sink Joe Chip got a stainless steel knife; with it he began systematically to unscrew the bolt assembly of his apt’s money-gulping door.
“I’ll sue you,” the door said as the first screw fell out.
Joe Chip said, “I’ve never been sued by a door. But I guess I can live through it.”
― Philip K. Dick, Ubik
https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/7444685-the-door-refused-to-open-it-said-five-cents-please
Geat article! This post human world can't last because it removes all the reasons people have for living. And when that happens for long enough, we'll either rebel or die off.
Great Post! There should be a new term for this, like shrinkflation: you pay the same, but you get less product. Now, you pay the same or more and you have to do the serving, the ordering, the packing.