My technophobic wife has taken an increasing shine to internet shopping.
Point, click, receive, wrap… Point, click, receive, wrap…
At this point, you might be thinking this is another husband-rant about all of the clicking activity and the bill that will come due in January. Well, that may be a subject for another post (I hope the title changes), but right now I’m trying to wrap my mind around the amount of email spam that her clicking has brought us. You see, we share an email account. Mistake? Maybe… but it has worked thus far.
Here is the problem, cleaning my inbox is the one thing I’m OCD about. I need it to be current or I lose focus. At work, I churn through emails faster than a Gopher on balsa-wood. If I can answer it immediately, it is gone. If it makes me mad, gone. If it is ambiguous and may not pertain to me, whoops, I hit delete. My inbox is squeaky-clean. The one at work, that is.
The shared inbox at home gets bogged down in December with order confirmations, shipping information, and advertisements. Oh the advertisements. Did I mention my wife is a technophobe? So, while she has mastered the checkout function of two hundred seventy-four websites, I can’t convince her that they won’t think any less of her if she unchecks the little box that says, “Would you like us to send you an ungodly amount of emails that are irrelevant, obnoxious, and likely to cause enmity between husband and wife?”
I should be working a second job to prepare for the aforementioned bill, but I spend my December trying to unsubscribe from every mailing list known to mankind. Only they lie to you when they allow you to hold the illusion that leaving them is an option. It’s a web of deceit – an impossibility. You cannot be removed from mailing lists. “You have been removed from our mailing list. We are sorry to see you go” is a lie from the bowels of the earth.
What the little button should say is, “Thank you for verifying your existence, I will now torture you every fifteen minutes with a blinking email reminder of your incompetence.”
♦
After trying unsuccessfully to remove our email address from yet another list, I marched to the den, bowed out my chest, and sternly gave my wife an ultimatum!
“Either you learn to uncheck the subscribe button, or we are changing our email address!”
Women don’t like ultimatums.
Of course, our email address remains the same and though wounded and alone, I am off to fight a MailChimp.
Filed under: It Made Me Laugh
We are kindred spirits. My wife does that same. Like many couples we keep our phones handy at night, charging them on the night stand. With parents in a nursing home, you never know when you might receive the fateful call. So there is another thing my technophobe wife has yet to master – silencing the PING of her email notification. It sings to us all night long.
Snicker…like a gopher through balsa wood. But I understand the scenario.
Another gem! Thank you :-)
yeh,trying to become ‘unsubscribed’ is like the equivalent of trying to get a passport out of a foreign land under a dictatorship
I liked my little gopher analogy!
Oh dear Lord, we might be married to the same woman. IF that thing wakes me up one more time! But if she silences it, it stays on silence for days on end and I can’t get hold of her…. But I love her. Fortunately, I have no flaws!
Going to see The Interview?
Glad you enjoyed, Paul.
hah!