Ages & Stages: Remind Me Later

 By Normal 0 Elizabeth Esse Kahrs  

About three months ago, I got a new Dell computer. My prior model had become as slow as an extinct dinosaur. Once my husband set it up for me, I was good to go. The great thing about new products these days is the ability to register them online versus filling out the accompanying paperwork. I always manage to set that paperwork aside with the intention of sending it in, but that rarely happens.

As soon as I fired up my new Dell, I was prompted to complete my registration. And, for the past three months, I’ve been prompted to complete my registration every five minutes or so, day upon day, hour upon hour. You see, there is a glitch in my new Dell’s ability to process information.

Welcome. Thanks for registering with Dell! Let us help you get the most of your computer. Registering your new Dell is quick and easy. It will only take three simple steps to complete.

That is a lie.

After choosing “register now” and filling out my information numerous times, I soon wizened to the fact that I had to choose “Decline” or “Remind me Later” in order to get this screen to disappear. Remind Me Later turned out to be the most efficient option, an immediate termination of this process, whereas Decline took me to yet another screen:

We respect your decision! However, registering is quick and easy. Your information will be used to better assist you in the future.

Now, everyone knows that using But or However before a statement is meant to negate said statement. I’m not buying that Dell respects my decision—even if it was my decision. The point is I’ve grown weary of my Dell reminding me later. My Dell interrupts me whether I’m searching the internet, or reading an email, or in the middle of writing a story. It’s just plain rude is what it is, and it’s definitely not respectful.

While my Dell continues to remind me later, I’m reminded of the current nature of communication among people. Emails and texting, instant messaging and Twittering, the world has now opened up to greater communication given the ease. Whereas you might have thought twice about picking up the phone and calling that old friend from high school that you recently friended on Facebook (“Huh. I remember her.”) Now, you probably have no qualms shooting off a private message or posting some long buried sentiment on her Wall for everyone to see. I’m guilty of this, of course, but stepping back from it I’m unnerved by my behavior. It’s a strange thing, this “social media”—it seems as if I’m reaching out to people, genuinely connecting with them—but I’m often left feeling empty as if I’d had no human contact at all. It’s a trick, really. There is this technological distance that masquerades as genuine human interaction. We all get sucked into it; it seems like a great thing—but the truth is it interferes with our real relationships with actual people.

This kind of communication borders on dangerous. How many times have you gotten an email from someone and thought, “What exactly does this mean?” Absent is the tone and nuance of the words, the context. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read an email and wasted time and energy wondering how to interpret it and how to respond. And then there are those times when I’ve made the mistake of getting into a back and forth only to finally figure out that it’s time to back away from that computer and have a genuine, live conversation.

In general, I believe people to be kind and respectful of others. However, I also believe that technology has become the gateway to an increased level of rudeness. Whereas most people are conscious of not butting into an actual conversation, they seem clueless to the fact that speaking in public on their cell phones is interruption all the same. It’s as if this rude behavior has evolved along with the technology, people utilizing their devices to be bad-mannered for them.

I’m in the bathroom stall at an office building. There’s a woman chatting with her friend on her cell phone. She’s in the stall next to me.

I’m in the airport waiting for my flight. There’s a man with a Blue Tooth strapped to his ear, pacing the boarding area, screaming out the details of his conference call.

I’m on the checkout line at the grocery store. There’s a woman who refuses to get off her cell phone despite the fact that the cashier is trying to speak to her.           

No wonder my Dell behaves so poorly. It’s had excellent teachers.

Elizabeth Esse Kahrs is a mom, freelance columnist, and fiction writer living on the South Shore.