William Essex
Shall I tell you a story?
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27/2/2020

 
“We’re going paperless!” says the headline on the letter from the utility company that provides me with gas and electricity.

Reader, they’re going paperless. How old-fashioned, you might say. Well, yes.

Strictly, they’re going paperless in their dealings with customers who don’t read the whole of this letter – who miss the bit where they can opt out of paperlessness – but still, that’s jolly paperless, isn’t it? Come on, don’t discourage them. Jolly paperless! Well done! Here, have one of my gold stars!

Even later in the letter than the bit where we can opt out is this. “Download our new App to get account updates and reminders straight to your device.”

Bless! They’ve got a new App!

If I download it, my device will start pinging away with account updates and reminders from the utility company that provides me with gas and electricity. Hooray! Can’t wait.

The letter tells me that my account with the utility company, etc., “is now easier to use than ever”.

Which is quite impressive. “You’re already benefiting from a convenient way to manage your energy online. … you have everything you need in one easily accessible place.”

I thought that easily accessible place was the gas bill. Tear open the envelope. Read what’s inside. Easy access.

But no. It’s something online. And now that they’re going paperless, I’ll be “joining a community of thousands of account users already receiving their communications this way, and we really hope you’re going to prefer the change too.”

Isn’t that nice?

I found an old chequebook the other day. Used it to pay a utility bill. Oddly satisfying experience. I know a young writer (digital native, if you remember that term) who’s taken to using a typewriter for first drafts and letters.

Going paperless isn’t exactly cutting-edge, is it?

But never mind. It’s very clever. Well done!

I think I will opt out, though, because I just don’t want the extra work.

Utility bills would just arrive. Drop through the letterbox. Remember?

“We’ll send you an email notification when you have something new to log-in and view online. If you’ve forgotten your password…” and so on.

Going online to find my bill. Extra work. Not much, but – work that I didn’t have to do before.

Assuming my spam filter lets the email through.

Picture
Yeah, well, this is today's photograph. It's a detail of a larger photograph that I took when I was looking for an illustration for a story called "Such are the Miracles" that I was posting on Medium. You would have had the whole thing, but I liked the verticals.

Continuing the theme, a certain credit-card company sent me another letter the other day.

A4. Brown envelope. Little window in it to show my address.

The same offer as comes roughly every month. Credit card. I can do a “balance transfer” from another card at no interest until some distant reckoning that needn’t trouble us at all now, tra-la.

Enclosed was the familiar What we do with your data leaflet.

They’ve been sending me these offers for absolutely ages. Always the same: a balance-transfer offer on a new credit card.

I don’t mind – my paper shredder gets hungry these days – but that leaflet does bother me a little.

By now, my data should include my responses. I’ve blogged and posted about these offers before – and I once asked Facebook, via a post, to make itself useful and tell B– (I usually name them, but I guess they're all the same) that I wasn’t interested. None of it worked. The offers still come.

Yes, I know. Old fool. Ridiculous old fool wasting his time.

But next time you wake up at 3am and lie there worrying about the surveillance economy – and big data, and data analytics, and CCTV cameras, and all the rest of it – think of me.

I’m not proud of the state of my finances, but one thing I can say is: I don’t have a credit card. I haven’t had a credit card since I got fed up with the things back in the nineties.

Therefore – I’ll spell this out, in case you’re as slow as I am at 3am – I don’t have a balance to transfer.

I’m not eligible to take up Barc– oops, that was close! To take up the credit-card company’s offer, and haven’t been since the idea of the balance transfer was invented.

I don’t know what these people do with my data, but I suspect that they don’t read it very closely.

Reader, I have tested the surveillance economy, and it doesn’t work. Relax: nobody’s paying attention.

Comments are closed.
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    In a desk diary scavenged from a house of the dead, a man records his own experiences of the end times: what he has to do to survive; how he came to be marooned where he is; how he reacts to the discovery that he is not alone.

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    Over coffee, a young journalist gets The Message.

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    Read My Shorts?

    Here is yet another page of old blog posts and other writings. Sorry, but I need my metaphorical sock drawer for metaphorical socks. The link to the page is right at the end of the paragraph here.

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    Roads without end

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    Also available in English. Look further down.

    State of the Union

    Several commentators today saying that they've lost confidence in the US. Making their point by talking up the glories of the past. After two weeks of this administration, they're not going back.
         Were they wrong, and they've seen the light? Or has the US changed? I guess the latter is the intended meaning. But we should at least acknowledge the possibility... More.

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    Kitchen parenting

    I have teenage children. When they're home, sooner or later one of them will come to me and say: "Dad! We're going to make a mess in the kitchen!
       "Great!" I will reply, picking up on the tone of voice. "What are you going to do?"
        "We thought we'd slice up some peppers and onion and bits of chicken and leave them glued to the bottom of the frying pan. Burn something in one of the saucepans and leave it floating in the sink."
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    No pinpricks

    Okay, so a certain President recently made a speech to his people, in which he told them that their country's military "don't do pinpricks". His intention was to get across that when those soldiers do a "limited" or even "targeted" strike, it hurts. But those of us in the cynical wing of the listening public took it the other way. More.


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    Looking at both the US election and the revived Brexit debate in the UK, the question is not: who wins? but: how did we get here? More.

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    9th May 2014

    On the day that I wrote this, the early news told us of a parade in Moscow to celebrate Russia’s defeat of Nazi Germany in the Second World War. Crimea remained annexed, and the Russia/Ukraine crisis was not resolved. At around half eight, the BBC’s reporter in Moscow was cut off in mid-sentence summarising the military display; the Today programme on Radio 4 cut to the sports news. More.

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No animals were harmed in the making of this website. Other websites are available online (and off). All the content here is copyright William Essex, this year, last year, the year before that and, you
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