It runs our world.
One really can’t get away from it. It governs our lives. It commands our attention and dollars. It promises us a better tomorrow. The worlds largest companies are ALL doing it. Startups are all producing it.
The only problem is, I can’t seem to understand it.
As I sit here in bed writing this article, I’m confident I’m using technology to produce and publish the content. I’m pretty sure I’m sitting on technology in the form of a queen size mattress that arrived in the mail in a crate no larger than a shoe box (shout-out to Leesa).
But that’s about where it stops. The rest of the items around me are just things. Relics. Ancient relics of the world that go by their non-formal names (pencil, chair, micro-fiber blanket” rather than the shiny “technology” moniker. The IKEA nightstand holding my miracle communicator certainly isn’t technology.
But then I think, “wow, it’s amazing that they could flat pack this piece of furniture and allow me to assemble it with one tool in 10 minutes for only $69”. And, “that’s only possible because of modern manufacturing, forestry, adhesives, logistics and shipping, and a whole host of other things I can’t begin to fathom.” Isn’t that as equaly impressive as my ability to see your cat video while sitting on the toilet?
Everything in our world was at one point new. The latest and greatest. Technology. The passage of time is the only thing that causes something that was once considered technology to lose that heralded title. The technology innovators of the past are never the inventors of the future.
After 20 years of being delighted by a search box that finds my favorite things in an instant, I’m no longer impressed. That’s no longer technology, that’s life. I’m just as impressed with that technical ability as I am my ballpoint liquid gel’s pen ability to put a mark on paper (with sparkles!).