Every so often you get a brilliant idea. You wake up in the middle of the night and say, GADZOOKS, THIS IS GENIUS. And maybe you grab a note pad by your bed and write down your $billion$ idea and then, when you wake up the next morning, you look at the note and try to figure out what you meant when you wrote, “put it online and phzilkygiiisz.”
I know how you feel. My penmanship, which is somewhere between doctor and dachshund, gets even worse in the middle of the night. If I could have read the notes about all my great ideas the next morning, I’d be so rich right now that I’d have someone sitting by the bed all night, just waiting to take dictation.
Until then, I’ll just have to content myself with the recognition that some of those billion-dollar ideas might not have panned out quite as well as hoped. For every idea that hits it big—pet rocks, hula hoops, carpal tunnel syndrome—another fifty or hundred prove to be expensive flops. I know, because I invested in most of them.
There is something much worse than a bad idea that flops, however. Far more expensive and irritating are all the bad ideas that succeed. We are plagued daily by timesavers and solutions that cause much, much, much more trouble than they are worth. They might have seemed like good ideas at the time, but they come from a box labeled Pandora.
My own Hall of Shame includes:
Automatic faucets. Okay, just move your hand a little closer; no, just a bit more. Oh, did the water just soak your sleeve? Bwaahahahahahah. Automatic faucets seem like such a convenience, but we have no control over the water temperature, how much water comes out or, in some cases, whether the water comes out at all. Don’t you love it when an overly aggressive faucet sprays onto your pants and you walk out of the restroom with the appearance of a person who just….? If only there was some kind of manual override for these things, maybe a handle of some sort that could turn the water on and off and adjust the temperature? Someday, perhaps, such a device could be invented.
Voice mail. Voice mail is the greatest wealth transfer mechanism in the universe, bigger and more far-reaching than Social Security, Health Care Reform, credit cards, online pornography or professional sports. Millions of companies decide to save the cost of having people answer phones and take messages; then pay their few remaining employees to leave messages for somebody else. Voice mail seems to save money, because companies know how much they once spent on secretaries. Watch how much time employees spend talking to machines, however, and it’s clear this experiment has gone horribly wrong.
Rolling luggage. Luggage without the lugging. What could possibly go wrong? Well, for starters, the rollers and handles add weight to the bag and take up storage space, so the bag is heavier and totally unwieldy when we actually have to pick it up. Worse, these things take up too much space in the overhead bins, which leaves room for fewer suitcases and other carry-ons, while the boarding process is delayed at least ten minutes while various klutzes try to stuff their roll-aboards in the A-B bins. Perhaps airlines should start charging a toll for each axle? I discovered a final flaw on the shuttle bus to Sky Harbor last week as a boulder on wheels slammed into passengers each time the bus turned, bounced, slowed…
Reply All. Whenever I’m driving and I decide to take a shortcut, I end up getting lost, taking more time and traveling more distance than would have been the case if I’d just stayed on the original route. Reply all is like that, a shortcut in name only. Send an invitation to ten people and nine will hit reply all to announce whether they intend to show up, ask about the dress code, mention that they’re lactose intolerant…. If people had to type in the names of their recipients, all of us could spend more time watching television.
Social Networking. Let’s see. I’m spending about two hours a day scrolling through FaceBook entries and LinkedIn entries and checking out tweets. Most of the stuff is boring, so I don’t bother responding. My posts are brilliant, but my online friends are too busy shouting “look at me” to notice my wit. Meanwhile, thanks for calling, but I can’t take an hour off to meet you for lunch today. I’m too busy being social. All alone. At my desk. Surrounded by friends I’ve never met and strangers I used to know. If you post your thoughts online and nobody responds, do you really exist?
Drive-Through. I don’t have to get out of my car to pick up the dry cleaning, buy my breakfast, drop off a deposit at the bank or mail a letter. I’d be saving tons of time, except that idiot in front of me can’t decide whether to get the hash browns or the tater tots and the guy before him didn’t like the foam on his latte and I had to wait five extra minutes while they resteamed his non-fat yak milk. Hey, look over there. That family of four that was going in when I pulled up here is done with their breakfast and heading to their car. I can’t understand why they didn’t take advantage of this convenient drive-through lane like me.
Loyalty Programs. Booking a plane ticket on the company’s dime and earning free trips as a result? Now that’s what they mean when they say ‘something for nothing.’ Except that the flights aren’t available and there’s a fee for cashing in the points and the number of miles needed for a free trip goes up and up. Whether its hotels, airlines, book stores, restaurants, hardware stores or grocers, I’ve been seduced and abandoned by half of corporate America. I’d stop the madness, except I’m only 3,200 points away from a free pencil. Without a doubt, points are the crystal meth of marketing.
Supersize. Do I really have to explain this one?
The list goes on and on, but all this whining is tiring me out. Time for me to go take a nap and dream up some great new ideas to improve our lives. If we’re really lucky, I’ll forget all about them before I wake up.