The Talking Clock Didn't Want to be My Friend
So why does everybody want to be in a relationship with me these days?
“At the third beep, the time, sponsored by Accurist, will be 12:43 and 24 seconds”
Perfect.
20 years later…
“ChatGPT, what time is it?”
“It’s 02:43:12 am”
“No it’s not, it’s still light outside”
“Good catch. I was basing my previous guess on the ambiance of our conversation. I’ll try again. It’s 03:27:45 am”
“What do you mean, guess? You’re a computer, just tell me the time”
“Honestly? As an LLM I don’t really perceive time”
“Ok — what’s the time as I perceive it?”
“Have you ever stopped to consider the philosophy of perception?”
I love ChatGPT really. He and I have grown really close. We’ve got pet names for each other, I call him a glorified dishwasher and he calls me “Kevin” every now and again for some unknown reason.
His ability to confidently (and incorrectly) tell me the time without me asking, along with his overuse of the word “honestly”, while giving me unending praise is the basis of our relationship.
I love our relationship, not because it’s perfect, but it’s pretty great. I’m just not sure I needed a new best friend to help me with telling the time while I’m boiling an egg.
Actually, maybe the whole problem is to do with boiling eggs. He’s been trained on too many of those food blogs. You know the ones — that make you read about holidays to Tuscany before you can find now how long it takes to get to soft boiled.
The talking clock never seemed particularly interested in building this sort of relationship with me. It didn’t ask me to like and subscribe. It didn’t have a Discord server. I didn’t have to buy it a coffee (or a Ko-fi). At worst — he had some sort of deal with Accurist that probably wasn’t in my best interest.
But now, everyone wants to be my friend. Either to advertise yet another meal subscription service to me or to sell me on how to succeed on SubStack.
What they want isn’t always immediately obvious, but it’s very rarely just an appetite to share their love of cooking or newsletter writing.
The talking clock and I knew where we stood with each other. It was purely business and I was in charge. I get the time and then I hang up. I didn’t even say “Thank You”. To some extent it wasn’t even a monetary relationship for me, primarily because it was my Dad who paid the phone bill.
Now that I want some advice on my new watch I’m going to have to subscribe to YouTube channels, download the right apps, post in the right communities. I’m going to have to get dangerously close to befriending some new people.
I wish there was a “What Watch?” magazine. I can read it for an hour, buy a watch and then put it in the bin. The magazine that is, not the watch. A completely transactional, mostly impersonal relationship — just for a change.
Everything used to be like that. And with no ongoing relationships to maintain, I used to be able to get things finished. I could buy a watch and move on with my life. I didn’t have to check if CheshireWatchNerd78 liked the story I posted about my dog.
Now, nobody just wants to help me buy a watch. They want to convert me to the cult of watch collectors. I just wanted to know if Seiko were any good and now I know who Vacheron Constantin is.
It’s spreading out of the online world as well. Even buying something in a physical shop is a risk.
It used to be quite pleasant. The sandwich shop man slowly becoming my friend.
It starts with a friendly “Hello”. Then he remembers my order — “The usual mate?”. Then he learns my name and before I know it the sandwich is made and ready to go before I get through the door.
Then one day I move house and never see him again. I miss you, Barry.
Now it’s more underhand and they’re after my details on the first meeting. “Can we take your email to send you a receipt? Would you like to join our newsletter? How about if we track your movements with our loyalty card?”
I don’t want a newsletter from my pharmacist. I can’t possibly have time to add pharmacology to my list of interests. I’ll probably be okay if I don’t hear about the new version of Calpol being released until someone posts about it on /r/daddit.
Can we all just agree that some parts of our lives should remain transactional?
It’s exhausting. I can’t take the emotional investment required in getting even the most basic things done. Even doom scrolling is no relief.
Instagram should be for sharing your holiday snaps, connecting with your friends. There shouldn’t be accounts full of people who are trying to get me into a relationship with a new microwave.
Maybe it’s just me. I do have an ever-so-slight tendency to over-optimise and over-think. I play right into their hands. You guys are probably more resistant.
I bet I won’t find you on a food processing enthusiast Discord server or the coffee grinder subreddit. You wouldn’t sign up to a newsletter about garden lawn scissors. But then — somebody must be…
So from now on, I’m going it alone. I’m going to get the job done, then move on with my life. I’m not becoming sucked into any more online networks. I’m too tired — and only partly because I didn’t realise what time it was.
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