I do love a good convenience.
Take, for example, the computerized voice-mail notification I get from Target regarding my pharmaceutical needs.
“Hello, this is a message from TARGET PHARMACY. Your prescription is ready for pick up.”
Oooh! Is it the script for my asthma? Is it my anxiety medication?
For someone who is not receiving enough excitement, like myself, this is big news. Which prescription is it?!
I’m going to need both prescriptions at once.
Mary reports that she gets the same satisfaction when notified that a movie she has reserved at the library is now available. “Hello, this is a message for MURRAY CAMPBELL. You have ONE item waiting at the Hennepin County Library.”
Calling her “Murray” aside, how’s that for convenient? Get on your bad motor scooter and ride, Murray! Your movie is in!
A lot of the U.S.’s economy is built around convenience. With some of the fewest national (paid) holidays on the planet, it’s only natural that we have convenience-based accommodations: drive-thru pharmacies, liquor and grocery stores that deliver, online dating sites, door-to-door massage…
OK. No door-to-door massage. Who would invite that guy in?
Wait. What does he look like?
Wait. We’ve gotten off-topic here, haven’t we?
Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy most of my conveniences. They’re, um, convenient.
I get post cards from my dentist, form letters from the State, e-mail notification from my internet provider.
I get Facebook reminders. Having joined maybe a year ago, I’ve found myself making and accepting “friend” requests to and from people I haven’t seen in years. Decades. Lifetimes. It’s exhausting. There are siblings, parents, various and sundry relatives, friends, friends of friends, mothers of friends, colleagues, blog friends, and pen pals.
My list is diverse and sometimes counter-intuitive.
And since joining Facebook a year ago, I’ve wished more people “Happy Birthday” than I have in all the years preceding it.
Be honest. Outside of family and close friends, how many birthdays can you remember? Sure, you might know what month, but the date?
Now, thanks to reminders sent to me by Facebook, I can wish a “Happy Birthday” to a guy that I attended a year of elementary school with in 1970.
I’m sure there’s somewhere you can go on Facebook to turn it off, but I so rarely think of that sort of thing while there, and I just don’t feel like messing with it.
And that, right there, is the flip side of having so many conveniences: it seems I can’t be bothered to change the settings on my conveniences because it’s not convenient.
Who knew convenience was such a complex issue?
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