Technology and I Are in a Toxic Relationship

I don't think technology likes me.

I know.

People say, "Technology doesn't have feelings."

Those people have clearly never tried to upload a video five minutes before bedtime.

Technology absolutely has feelings.

And most of them are directed at me.

It starts the same way every single time.

I wake up full of optimism.

"Today's the day. Today we're going to be productive."

I open my laptop.

Technology looks me dead in the eyes and says...

"Oh...you needed this button? We moved it."

Excuse me?

Who approved this?

Every app in existence seems to hold weekly meetings where they ask one very important question.

"How can we make sure Tracy has absolutely no idea what's going on tomorrow?"

Mission accomplished.

Yesterday, the button was on the left.

Today it's under three mysterious dots.

Tomorrow it'll require a blood sample and a retina scan.

The worst offender is video editing.

I have a simple dream.

I would like to trim the beginning.

Maybe add captions.

Perhaps some music.

That's it.

Nothing fancy.

Instead...

Three hours later...

I've accidentally created a transition that makes me look like I'm teleporting through another dimension.

My audio is somehow speaking before my mouth moves.

The captions have decided my name is "Traffic."

And the background music is playing at the emotional intensity of someone announcing the apocalypse.

Let's not even discuss passwords.

Technology tells us every password should be unique.

Great.

Wonderful.

Fantastic.

So now I have 437 different passwords.

None of which I remember.

Every login goes something like this:

Wrong password.

Wrong password.

Wrong password.

Reset password.

"The new password cannot be the same as your previous password."

It isn't!

It's the same password with an exclamation point because I have run completely out of creativity.

And then...

The verification codes.

Technology:

"We've sent a six-digit code."

Excellent.

Where?

Email?

Text?

An authenticator app I downloaded in 2023 and immediately forgot existed?

By the time I find the code...

It has expired.

Apparently verification codes have the lifespan of fruit flies.

People love to say,

"There's an app for that."

Friend...

The app is the problem.

Every app wants me to download another app.

Then connect it to a different app.

Which syncs with another app.

Which requires permissions from an app whose sole purpose seems to be asking permission to use other apps.

I don't need another app.

I need an adult.

Now let's talk about software updates.

You know...

Those cheerful little messages that say,

"We've made improvements!"

Lies.

What they mean is:

"We've hidden everything you've spent the last six months learning."

The button you use every day?

Gone.

The menu?

Renamed.

Half the icons?

Completely different.

But don't worry.

They've also added seventeen features you'll never use.

Here's my favorite part.

Every company advertises their software exactly the same way.

"So intuitive!"

"Easy to use!"

"User-friendly!"

If that's true...

Then why am I watching a fourteen-year-old on YouTube explain it to me?

Nothing humbles a fifty-year-old woman faster than hearing,

"Okay guys, this is super easy..."

No, Trevor.

It isn't.

You were born knowing how to do this.

I still remember when phones were attached to walls.

I've noticed something else.

Technology has an uncanny sense of timing.

Everything works beautifully...

Until someone is watching.

The webinar starts in two minutes?

Internet gone.

Speaking engagement?

Microphone won't connect.

Podcast interview?

Camera suddenly believes it has never met your computer before.

Need to screen-share?

Congratulations.

Every file you've ever created has vanished.

The moment the meeting ends?

Everything works perfectly again.

Technology is a comedian.

I'm just the punchline.

People assume I hate technology.

I don't.

I love what technology allows me to do.

I can write books from my recliner.

Talk to women around the world.

Record podcasts.

Create courses.

Reach people I'd never meet otherwise.

That's incredible.

What I hate...

Is that technology keeps promising simplicity while somehow requiring seventeen tutorials, three updates, two subscriptions, and one emotional support beverage.

So yes...

Every once in a while you'll hear me mutter something under my breath at my laptop.

Or threaten to throw my phone into the nearest body of water.

Or declare that I'm moving to a cabin in the woods where the only thing buffering is gravy.

I don't mean it.

Mostly.

Because as much as technology and I fight...

We'll both be back here tomorrow.

Me trying to figure out where they moved the button this time.

Technology pretending it has absolutely no idea what I'm talking about.

It's a toxic relationship.

But apparently...

We're committed.