Remember when you could just… do things?
You parked the car, put some coins in a meter, and walked away. You ordered dinner by speaking to an actual person. You turned on the air-conditioning by pressing a button. And if you wanted to see a restaurant menu, someone handed you one.
Simpler times.
Now, apparently, everything requires an app.
Want to park? Download the app. Create an account. Enter your rego. Add a credit card. Verify your email. Allow notifications. Decline location tracking. Reset the password you created in 2023.
“I JUST WANT TO PARK THE CAR.”
Restaurants have joined in too. Sit down, scan the QR code, open the menu, select your meal, create an account, enter your table number and pay online.
Meanwhile, a perfectly nice human being is standing three metres away.
And don’t even think about joining a loyalty program without handing over your name, email address, date of birth, mobile number and colour of your undies.
Then there are our homes.
The lights have an app. The TV has an app. The security camera has an app. The robot vacuum has an app. Even the washing machine would apparently like to send us notifications.
Why?
I don’t need a relationship with my washing machine. I need it to wash my clothes.
Of course, every app also needs a password containing 14 characters, a capital letter, a number, a symbol, an ancient Egyptian hieroglyph, and the name of your first pet.
Then comes the inevitable:
Incorrect password.
So, you click Forgot Password, receive an email, create another password you will immediately forget and vow that from now on you’ll write them all down somewhere sensible.
You won’t.
Technology was supposed to make life easier. And much of it absolutely has.
But somewhere along the way, convenience became remarkably complicated.
So, here’s a radical idea.
Sometimes I’d like to walk into a shop, buy something, hand over my money and leave.
No app. No account. No QR code. No password.
And please, for the love of everything holy…
DON’T ask me to download anything.