“Could I possibly get half a glass of wine?” 

 

This was me about a week ago at a Thai Berkeley eatery near a theatre where I was going to work that evening.

 

“Ohhh, No. We cannot do. You see I must punch the order into the computer….”

The waiter left the rest of the logic hanging, as obvious, if I thought about it. 

I did. 

 

 “Ahhh, and it only says ‘glass of wine’ on the computer. I see.”

Still, I waited, hoping he’d make it happen.  I mean, how hard could it be to bypass that, and simply charge me half the price and give me half a glass – the computer didn’t pour the wine, he did. 

I waited in vain.

 

“No.”  He shook his head and laughed lightly.  His laugh said that this was far too complicated a problem to throw his way – and that it was never gonna happen. He was perfectly lovely and light-hearted about it, but the answer was still, “no way.”

 

“Okay then, forget the wine.” I smiled. “That’s okay.”

I meant it.  I ate my Pad Thai with a large glass of water – healthy and responsible as hell, if a little less celebratory than desired.

 

No big deal…

 

This innocuous moment was only a little annoying, but it highlights something that is frightening me about the time we’re living in.  I’ll bet you even thought, “well, she can’t ask for that.  It’s not in the system.”  

 

Our day-to-day, human interactions are being dictated by digital systems, rather than analog ones. This isn’t, on a case-by-case basis, merely annoying, or sad or difficult.  It’s scary – cause it means we’re living our lives, not based on reality, but on digital versions of reality.

 

In all our affairs…

 

 

My father passed away recently.  My mother is now in the difficult position (all emotions aside here) of having to change the names on accounts that were in his name, to her own. Cable TV service, car ownership, and countless others.  She’s finding this a most daunting task – because all records are, naturally, computer records, and as such are “understood” by machine systems, not by people. 

 

These systems think when you change the name of an account, you are, say, opening a new account.  Or that you are doing something fishy…“that is not allowed.” 

 

So my mother has spent hours upon frustrating hours with large companies trying to get their systems to understand and accept the name change.  She has been charged large sums of money in error, and has been, daily during this difficult time, on the kind of annoying administrative phone call none of us wants to make in the best of times.   It’s a huge snafu.  (You know where that word comes from… it’s an acronym.)

 

Machines do not understand the complexity of the very simple situations we find ourselves in every day, moment by moment. Our emotional textures, our three- or four- or five-dimensional states of being are incomprehensible to the systems we turn to, and trust, to organize our lives and our societies.

 

Intimate listening – we need it…

 

To someone who focuses primarily on the human voice and all it can convey, this dissonance is a problem.  We live in a world whose systems are misrepresenting its inhabitants. 

 

Even a silent gesture delivers meaning to another being. Machines (which we are expecting to drive our cars for us in the near future) cannot grock mood, expressions of disgust or appreciation. Siri can respond, “You’re welcome, Julia.”  But not when she hears tears of gratitude in my voice, if I say “holy shit,” after a song is played.  Only if I say, and exactly, “Thank you, Siri.”

 

I want to say “holy shit!”

I want technology’s presence to advance our way of interacting with one another, not retract it – not make humanity fit into its smaller, less textured model.

 

Heard it before…?

 

I know this is no new idea. But I think it is an ever more important one – now.  Because the more we use digital systems, the more we expect to be misunderstood, expect to not connect truly and instantly on all levels, expect not to ask for or be in the complex truth of situations. We are at a point in this amazing time of advancement, when we gotta be careful not to let the inmates run the asylum. 

 

The more we stop being analog with each other, the more we miss – and are missed by – one another.   

 

The Whole Enchilada…

 

The easiest name change for my mom to make was with was her local heating oil company, a one-man, one-family business.  I’m sure he computerizes his records at the office. Here’s what that took: when he came by to deliver the next batch of oil, she said the account would now need to be in her name instead of her husband’s – Harriet, instead of Ozzie.  “Got it,” he said.  And he nodded unsaid condolences. Done.
Less time, more understanding. 

 

It’s what I teach my acting students: be alive onstage. Grock one another.  Be permeable; respond to the situation – as it is. A complex situation is made simple; its meaning valued, by willingness to be aware, be present, and listen to the entirety of the being before you or the moment you are in.  Then you get to respond, fully and  truthfully.  It’s way more fun, and way more interesting, than meeting expectations!

 

My wish for you in 2014: Don’t let any mechanistic system dictate your level of interaction and depth of response to the world.

Be Analog… be all here. 

 

…

That’ll be $4.50.