Website wrath

The grueling ordeal of going online...

Sits down at desk, logs in to computer…thinks to myself knowingly….

  • Ah, I need some new socks.  Let’s go shopping.  To the internet! The information superhighway, the World Wide Web.  Everything I could ever want at my fingertips.  Frictionless commerce, unlimited selection, the best prices! Let’s go!

Clickity click….type…dink…WHOOOSH….

Website loads…

“Do you accept the installation of ‘cookies’ on your personal hard drive so we can track your every movement, segment and study your suspiciously juvenile web browsing history, and fling hyper-specific and utterly irrelevant marketing messages your way?”

  • What?  No, I don’t want that…

“Then fill out this 3-page form specifying which tracking mechanisms we can and can’t install on your device. Or click ‘Accept All’ and live with the consequences.”

  • Damnit, this is going to take forever.

Clicks ‘Accept-all’

“Are you a robot?”

  • WTF? What does that even mean?  Am I a robot?  You got some nerve you stupid algorithm.  YOU are the robot.  How dare you get snooty with me on the existential preferences of silicon versus carbon based life forms?  Let me through you stupid jumble of code so I can shop for some socks!

Clicks ‘NO’

“Please confirm you are not a robot by selecting all the pictures of left-handed gorillas in this image from the zoo.”

Squints at a 3×3 grid of hazy images, selects a couple, hits enter.

BLARING POP-UP COVERS THE ENTIRE SCREEN, MESSAGE LOADS…

“Would you like to save 5% on your first order? Please give us your email address, phone number, and location of your favorite puppy so we can market the hell out of your sorry ass…”

  • Shit, I don’t even know if I like this store - fine, whatever. Just know that the minute I place my order I’m going to unsubscribe to your marketing database and forget we ever had this conversation. So joke is on you, idiot! You just lost $1.99.

Types in email address and contact info…

“Do you agree to the terms and conditions? Please scroll through this 20-page document confirm you understand that we are not liable for anything, ever, and your data will be sold to Russian hacker consortiums in order to boost our profit margin by 0.000001%”

  • Oh my lord…I just want some socks. Is that too hard? Why is that I can walk into one of your stupid stores and I don’t have to sign a waiver, but visiting your website locks me into binding arbitration and who knows what else?

Clicks ‘Accept’

“Are you really you? We don’t think so, and our lawyers are all up in our ass about this stuff. So we’re going to text a code to your phone number and then you have to tell us what it is. Because that definitely, absolutely, is a surefire way to prove ones identity…”

‘Bing’. Receives text.

[ Text Message ] “Your secret code is 314618. Don’t share it with anyone as they will have access to your account on our super important website.”

Enters ‘314618’ into the website form.

  • Finally! Let’s go shopping…

BLARING POP-UP COVERS THE ENTIRE SCREEN, MESSAGE LOADS…

“Did you know we have holiday themed orthopedic socks on sale right now! Click below to browse our selection….”

  • Sniff, whimper. Please…I just want some normal socks. Where is the menu for that….how can I find those? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WHO DESIGNED THE NAVIGATION ON THIS HELLSPACE? WHAT USER PROFILE ARE THEY TARGETING, PSYCHICS? Oh, here we go….

Click. Scroll. Scroll. Scroll. Scroll…

BLARING POP-UP COVERS THE ENTIRE SCREEN, MESSAGE LOADS…

“Hey there shopper! Our business model is not sustainable, so we try to earn extra money by selling dodgy ads and partner with bizarre vendors through our referral program. Would like to read this article about a Delaware Psychic who says that Timothee Chalamet is actually a sentient Bulgarian Labradoodle sent from the future?”

  • Huh? That’s weird…how can that be? OH HELL….QUIT DISTRACTING ME!

Closes pop-up window.

BLARING POP-UP COVERS THE ENTIRE SCREEN, MESSAGE LOADS…

“Would you like to visit our partner site that sells Organic Foot Fungicide that is made from all-natural Brazilian coconuts? See what we did there? Our algorithm picked up that you were shopping for your feet, so we connected you with this cool other feet thing! Aren’t we smart?”

  • AAAAAAARRRRRGGGHHHHH!?

Closes pop-up. Click. Scroll. Scroll. Scroll.

BLARING POP-UP COVERS THE ENTIRE SCREEN, MESSAGE LOADS…

“Did you know you can also shop on our App? It’s so easy and fun, and you can do it right from your phone and ignore your family at dinner and further isolate yourself from society at large! Click here to download our App.”

  • NOOOO! I absolutely do not want to load another stupid retail app on my phone for some place I probably will only consider shopping at once every decade. Quit trying to have a relationship with me! This is a TRANSACTION. A one-time exchange of money for goods. We likely will never speak again…

Closes pop-up window. Scroll. Scroll. Scroll…reaches end of the sock inventory…

“Press ‘Load More’ to see more socks.”

  • What the hell kind of business are you running here? I explicitly visit your website to look at socks….but you don’t want to show me ALL THE SOCKS. NO, I have to click again and again to see the entire selection. YOU’D THINK YOU WOULD WANT TO MAKE IT EASY FOR ME. But you keep teasing me and forcing me to click again and again, probably to goose some kind of ridiculous ‘engagement metric' and get some pretentious MBA marketing bastard a promotion….

Clicks ‘Load More’ and only two more sock options appear.

  • The hell with it.

Throws computer across the room. Gets in car, drives to the store and buys some socks.

…a few hours later…

[ Text Message ] “Would you take our quick survey to share your experience shopping with us?”

[ Head explodes ]

Parting Proclamation

Words, wit, and wisdom.

Nostalgia is not a strategy.

-Mark Carney

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Disclaimer:

All content and opinions are solely those of the author (Jack), and not representative of my employer, former employers, clients, anyone in Congress, my family, former college roommates, Baptists, the good citizens of Colorado, or my dog Mabel.