The Orgasmatron . . . and Other Invasive Technological Species

OK, the last time I used the word “orgasm” in a business blog was over 15 years ago, and my staff went completely bonkers. Somehow, I doubt things have changed all that much over the years. So before I am run out of town (or the social media equivalent), can we at least agree that our attachment to technology has a certain perverse, sexual nexus? OK, moving on.

The reference to the Orgasmatron takes us back to Sleeper, a 1973 dark comedy by Woody Allen (OK, strike 2 in the barely defensible references category here). If you know it, great. If not, well, figure it out. My interest here is simply the fact that recently I have taken to wearing an earbud in and around Etzlenu, our soul food kitchen. Frankly, there is nothing remotely soulful about this fucking earbud. It’s just that, in a sisyphean effort to be able to respond to my customers without subjecting my cell phone to the degradations of (and costly repairs owing to) being doused in cornmeal, olive oil, bbq sauces, and the like, I decided to implant some technology into my ear. It works, I’ll give it that. It also sucks — and in some rather unexpected ways.

OK, I kinda expected my ears to hurt from the prolonged presence of metal there. Check that box. But hey, all in the name of progress right. Gotta “train” my ear, whatever that means. At least I have the option of trading out left and right pieces, so only one orifice aches at a time. It was also unsurprising to find that no matter how “second nature” this device is (as the salesperson had promised), I am still very aware of it,all the time, worrying that it will drop into one of my soup stocks, trying to tap it twice with the correct balance of tact and strength to get it to do shit, wondering if I now look just as schizoid as half the Tel Aviv population seems to be talking “to themselves” at full volume in public places.

The unexpected shit, though is what really gets me. I did not expect that a stupid piece of metal in my ear would disrupt my focus and concentration, making it much harder for me to really think about what I am doing at any given moment in the kitchen. I did not expect that a stupid piece of metal in my ear would interfere with my sense of taste and smell. The scientists among you will have to explain THAT one to me. I did not expect to get so many damn irrelevant beeps in my ear, all that chaff just to get a small bit of pertinent info.

I’m sticking with the Woody Allen quote on this one: “I don’t like anything with moving parts that are not my own”