A few months ago, I had a conversation about cell phones with an acquaintance named Bobby. His wife and I had both recently bought new phones. While I had chosen an Android phone, she had gone with the iPhone. Like many people who have yet to sacrifice their souls at the smart phone altar, he told me how all he had ever wanted from a cell phone was something that can just call other people. Then he saw his wife’s phone and discovered all the magical wonder within.
After playing with her phone for a while, Bobby went to an AT&T store to buy one of his own. He told the young salesman how he was thinking about replacing his phone and was curious about what options there might be.
“Did you have a particular brand in mind?” the salesman asked.
“No,” Bobby said, “but I want to buy a new phone. My wife has an iPhone. Do you have anything like that?” The salesman said that they did, in fact, have iPhones and asked Bobby if he would like one. Playing a bit obtuse, Bobby pointed to the various phones on display in the store and asked, “Well, what’s so great about the iPhone? Why would I want it over one of these other phones?”
The salesman then explained that the iPhone was considered a smart phone, and many of the other phones on display were also smart phones, although they were from different manufacturers. “It’s really a personal preference,” he said. “Some people like the iPhone; some people like Android phones; others like the Blackberry or a Windows Phone. If you’d like, I can show you one of each, and you can decide which one you might want.”
While this seemed like a reasonable response to me, it infuriated Bobby. “Now, wait. I just told you that I’m in here and I want to buy a phone. I asked you why I would want to buy an iPhone, and you started trying to tell me about all these other phones.”
“Do you want an iPhone?”
“No, I want you to tell me why I should want one.”
The salesman then began to tell him everything one could wish to know about the iPhone. He told him about all of the features of the iPhone, explained how many different apps there were, and gave him examples of some of the popular apps. He told him about iTunes, the App Store, and the GPS/navigation features. The front-facing camera. 480p video recording. If there was something to be known about the iPhone, the salesman threw it into his spiel.
When the salesman had finished, Bobby pondered a few minutes and asked if any of these other phones could do that. The salesman told him that there are a lot of overlaps between the various smart phones, and that some had certain features that others lacked and vice versa. And if Bobby would just care to come over here and take a look at these other phones…
“Stop,” Bobby said. “I don’t want to look at those other phones. I just wanted you to sell me this goddamn phone!” Bobby stomped out of the store, leaving the salesman completely befuddled.
*********
When he told me this story, Bobby was amazed that I did not share his incredulity at the obvious incompetence of the salesman. I told him that I like to be given options and left to make my own choices. Almost any situation that has ever involved someone actually trying to sell me something has made me feel like that person is just trying to get me to buy whatever product gives him or her the highest commission.
I told him that I have also worked in retail, and I know how annoying it is to see a customer holding Product A in one hand and Product B in the other. They will stare back and forth between the two options as if the descriptions of both were written in a long-forgotten language and staring long enough might cause the heavens to part and God to descend and declare one of the products the clear winner. Just as you want to scream, “Make a fucking decision already!” they inevitably ask to see Product C again.
Having experienced the frustration from both sides of the equation, I tend to do the bulk of my shopping online. I recommended to Bobby that he try the same, since many websites will allow you to do side-by-side comparisons of different products. This allows you to choose which features you prefer without having someone standing over you who either wants to pressure you into one product or wants you to have an aneurysm from the massive amount of concentration you are expending by attempting to decode the apparently indecipherable markings on the box.
“That’s the problem,” Bobby said. “No one cares about the personal touch anymore. It’s the Internet and texting and all of that junk that's to blame.”
I just shrugged and said, “I guess.” I did not tell him that unless he was shopping at the old five-and-dime in a town where the official population includes local livestock, the “personal touch” had disappeared along with soda jerks and gas jockeys.
Throughout the next few weeks, I realized that maybe I am a bit jaded in this respect. When I go to the grocery store, I will stand in line twice as long to use the self-checkout rather an actual cashier. The same goes for the bank. I have sat in a line for twenty minutes at the drive-up ATM to deposit my paycheck to avoid going through the empty teller lanes and having the teller try to sell me on opening seventeen new accounts in order to get one percent cash back at certain businesses. I will pay more for just about anything if I can order online instead of having to actually go to a store.
Whenever I actually stop to think about this, I remember all of the science fiction movies and books I have ever seen or read. Whether they are replicants, Skynet, or The Matrix, computers always revolt against humans and generally begin some type of apocalyptic scenario. Even in Vonnegut’s Player Piano or Orwell’s 1984, machines are the tools of dystopian oppression.
Then I remember how great it is that I can order just about anything I want while sitting at my computer in my underwear. It seems like a fair trade.
