I have a question.
Why does EVERYTHING need an app now?
I wanted to park my car the other day.
That’s it.
I wasn’t trying to launch a satellite.
I wasn’t applying for a mortgage.
I simply wanted to leave my car in a parking space for an hour.
The sign says:
DOWNLOAD OUR APP TO PAY FOR PARKING.
Of course it does.
So now I’m standing beside my car, purse hanging off one shoulder, glasses sliding down my nose, trying to download an app while three people are waiting for my parking spot because they think I’m leaving.
I’m not leaving.
I LIVE HERE NOW.
Then the app downloads.
Great!
No.
Now I need to create an account.
Why?
We’re going to know each other for 60 minutes.
You don’t need my life story.
But apparently the parking meter would like my name, email address, phone number and a password containing:
One uppercase letter.
One lowercase letter.
One number.
One symbol.
And apparently the blood type of my firstborn.
Fine.
Account created.
Then:
“We’ve sent a verification code to your email.”
WHY?
I’M TRYING TO PARK A NISSAN, NOT ENTER THE PENTAGON.
So I leave the app.
Open my email.
Find the code.
Go back to the app.
The app refreshes.
The code disappears from my brain.
Back to email.
Back to app.
Email.
App.
At this point I’m considering abandoning the vehicle and reporting it stolen.
And it’s not just parking.
Everything has an app.
My bank has an app.
My grocery store has an app.
My pharmacy has an app.
My thermostat has an app.
My doorbell has an app.
My television has an app.
My hearing aids have an app.
My watch has an app.
My coffee maker probably has an app.
And if my toaster ever asks me to connect to Bluetooth, I’m moving into the woods.
Restaurants are getting in on it too.
Remember menus?
Beautiful invention.
You sat down.
Someone handed you a menu.
You opened it.
You chose food.
Apparently that system was far too efficient.
Now there’s a little square on the table.
SCAN QR CODE FOR MENU.
So everybody at dinner pulls out their phones.
Now I’m pinching and zooming my way through the appetizers.
“What’s the soup?”
“I don’t know. I accidentally opened the wine list.”
“Where are the sandwiches?”
“I think I just followed the restaurant on Instagram.”
And heaven help you if you forgot your reading glasses.
You’re holding the phone three feet from your face trying to determine whether you’re ordering chicken parmesan or joining their rewards program.
Speaking of rewards programs…
Would you like to download our app and earn points?
No.
I would like to purchase one muffin.
“It’s cheaper if you use the app.”
Of course it is.
Apparently cash is now the punishment price.
So I download another app.
And another.
And another.
Until my phone contains 147 little squares, most of which I don’t recognize.
I’ll find one and think:
What is THAT?
Apparently it’s an app I downloaded in 2023 because I needed to pay for parking in a town I have never visited again.
And every single one wants something.
Allow notifications?
No.
Allow location tracking?
No.
Allow access to your contacts?
WHY DOES THE PARKING METER NEED TO KNOW MY SISTER?
Then there are updates.
You haven’t used an app in six months, but the exact moment you desperately need it:
UPDATE REQUIRED.
Naturally.
So you update it.
Then it says:
We’ve updated our terms and conditions.
Wonderful.
Here are 84 pages of legal information for you to review while standing in a parking lot in the rain.
ACCEPT.
I don’t know what I just agreed to.
At this point I may have donated a kidney.
I miss buttons.
I miss knobs.
I miss menus.
I miss parking meters where you put in a quarter and walked away.
And I especially miss buying something without being asked:
“Do you have our app?”
No.
And unless this app is going to unload my groceries, fold my laundry and remember all my passwords…
I DON’T WANT IT.
Although, knowing my luck, there’s probably an app for that.
And I’ll need to create an account.
❄️ Arctic Blonde Society
Remember when the only thing you had to download was groceries from the car?
