Grievance Report

Maybe because I’ve been tamping down my horror and apoplexy at the state of our country for so long (lest I start screaming and never stop), I’m finding myself much more irritable about what I consider first world problems lately. Things came to a head this week when one of my accounts was hacked, resulting in multiple payment methods being compromised and untold hours of harrowing efforts at remediation.

Once the dust settled a bit (I’ll be sweeping up for weeks, I’m afraid), I had myself a little rant (similar to my previous imponderables but not nearly as good natured) about the enshittification of almost everything due to our tendency to take technology too far.

Why has it become almost impossible to speak with a customer service representative? I don’t want to follow your shitty menu or chat with your bot.

How is it legal for a major retailer to have no customer service number anywhere on their site? Why did I have to use my private investigator skills to find one? And then be redirected to the site?

Why do I have to enter a code from my phone when I’m on my computer or a code from my computer when I’m on my phone? For everything? You’re sending me an email for your nosy neighborhood board, and then requiring a code when I’m foolish enough to check it out?

Why would I want to fill out a survey after every phone call or service?

Why would I want to write a review of absolutely everything I’ve ever bought or done? Purchases, restaurant visits, medical appointments, even sites I visited but did not buy from.

Why would I want to receive your spam text offering your [fill in the blank] services in a town I haven’t lived in for 12 years?

Why would I want to see hundreds of ads for either the thing I briefly considered buying or the thing I already bought?

Why must a tip screen be included on almost every transaction, including those that traditionally don’t involve tipping? Why must I either pony up or be considered a cheapskate because most workers aren’t paid a living wage?

I realize that my vibe here is curmudgeonly Boomer, but I’m standing firm (and I’ve also spared you a much more impassioned rant on things that truly matter). If you’re looking for me, I’ll be the one pacing, snapping “REPRESENTATIVE” into the phone.

Ways I Found Joy This Week

Getting my hair glossed and cut

Visiting my parents’ favorite restaurant for a trip down memory lane with the CWP

Upgrading my pool with a new ladder and a party light, then getting back into it after a long hiatus

Visiting my new home away from home, the reflexology spa

Hanging out with the CWP at her apartment on a Saturday

Getting a long overdue facial

Things I Learned This Week

That the singer Tony Bennett (1926-2023) was also a talented artist whose first love was painting; his work was always signed with his original name, Anthony Benedetto

About efforts to revive the genome of an extinct Australian frog, Rheobatrachus silus, who gave birth through its mouth

Quotes That Resonated This Week

I have done nothing all summer but wait for myself to be myself again.

Georgia O’Keeffe

For a list of all the ways technology has failed to improve the quality of life, please press three.

Alice Kahn

What I Watched This Week

The Room Next Door (Netflix). Beautifully filmed (Pedro Almodovar) story of a renewed friendship in the face of mortality that raises questions of the limits of loyalty and compassion. Loved learning that Julianne Moore (my fave) and Tilda Swinton developed a close friendship during filming.

Best Medicine (Netflix). In addition to the escape, I’m enjoying the minor medical mysteries of each episode.

Orphan Black (Netflix). Deep in a rewatch of this Emmy-winning sci-fi thriller series before it leaves Netflix at the end of the month. Notable for Tatiana Maslany’s amazing portrayal of at least eight distinct personalities, as the story revolves around human cloning and the war it provokes between opposing forces. Also, some great bursts of humor.

What I Read This Week

Nora Webster, by Colm Toibin. A newly widowed mother of four in 1960s Ireland quietly finds her way in a small town. Understated and lovely.

Banal Nightmare, by Halle Butler. A thirty-something returns to the Midwest college town of her youth to decide what is next after a breakup. The preoccupations and angst of she and her friends were keenly observed and at times devastatingly funny, but mostly the book made me glad to be an old crone finished with striving.

Under the Falls, by Richard Russo. He left his small, upstate New York town at eighteen and never looked back. Now the frontman for a popular band, Tyler Sinclair is returning to play a benefit concert for the first time in eighteen years. Not everyone is happy to see him.

***

Thanks for reading!