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Episode transcript:
Linda hated chatters at the coffee shop. Not people who talked to each other; that’s fine. She’s not some kind of monster who insists on silence in public places. But strangers who took your silence as an invitation.
This guy’s name was Button. Linda would have asked him why, but she didn’t want to do anything to encourage the conversation. Also, he seemed strangely interested in Linda’s watch habits.
“I don’t know,” sighed Linda. “I don’t make it my personality or anything.”
He asked what she had picked in that day’s Weather Choose. Linda lied and said Partly Cloudy. It’s how I feel on the inside, she joked.
But he wouldn’t let it drop: “Weather Choose is the conversation we’re all having,” and “Isn’t it amazing that we managed to develop this technology to customize the weather within a local area,” and “The future is here. Get on board.”
He offered to help her open the app and make tomorrow’s choice. “I can sign you in from my watch,” he helped helpfully.
Linda wasn’t sure what this was. She excused herself to go talk with Miriam. But Button happily joined them.
“Why is there an anti-technology protest sticker on the front door of your business,” Button asked Linda.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but it’s time to go,” said Linda, a little bolder now that she was standing next to a friend.
Button said something again about “the conversation we’re all having” and “100% participation rate,” and Miriam offered to call the cops.
This got Button to move on, although not before offering Linda his card: Customer Satisfaction Liaison, Weather Aboveground. Linda put it in her mouth and chewed. Button walked out the door.
“You’re getting stalkers now?” asked Miriam.
Linda spit out the card, “He was like, obsessed, with Weather Choose,” she said. “I didn’t choose today. But I don’t know how he knew that.”
“It’s the conversation we’re all having,” Miriam imitated Button’s rallying cry.
“What if I don’t want to have a conversation?” said Linda. “Why can’t we go back to letting the weather be spontaneous.” Linda was never spontaneous, but she was frequently apathetic.
Miriam laughed. She and her husband had debated one night letting the kids download the app, and then picking, say, sleet in the middle of summer. Get them started in some baby culture jamming. But they had forgotten about it by the morning on their family outing to the “Real Paper Books Store.”
It was creepy that they had sent someone around to talk to Linda in person about her lack of a vote, though. Miriam said Linda should call customer service to complain. “You’ve got a contact number right here.”
She prodded the chewed up business card with the end of a pencil.
Linda said she would. “Can you throw that out for me,” she asked Miriam.
“Ew. No! I’m not touching that.” Miriam flicked the chewed up wad off of the counter with her pencil.
Later that night, Linda tried to look up how to uninstall or unsubscribe or un-anything. That proved tricky. It didn’t just delete like her other apps. So she turned her energies to researching that dastardly “protest sticker,” Viva Coco.
By Emily and PeterKeep up with us on YouTube and Patreon.
Episode transcript:
Linda hated chatters at the coffee shop. Not people who talked to each other; that’s fine. She’s not some kind of monster who insists on silence in public places. But strangers who took your silence as an invitation.
This guy’s name was Button. Linda would have asked him why, but she didn’t want to do anything to encourage the conversation. Also, he seemed strangely interested in Linda’s watch habits.
“I don’t know,” sighed Linda. “I don’t make it my personality or anything.”
He asked what she had picked in that day’s Weather Choose. Linda lied and said Partly Cloudy. It’s how I feel on the inside, she joked.
But he wouldn’t let it drop: “Weather Choose is the conversation we’re all having,” and “Isn’t it amazing that we managed to develop this technology to customize the weather within a local area,” and “The future is here. Get on board.”
He offered to help her open the app and make tomorrow’s choice. “I can sign you in from my watch,” he helped helpfully.
Linda wasn’t sure what this was. She excused herself to go talk with Miriam. But Button happily joined them.
“Why is there an anti-technology protest sticker on the front door of your business,” Button asked Linda.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but it’s time to go,” said Linda, a little bolder now that she was standing next to a friend.
Button said something again about “the conversation we’re all having” and “100% participation rate,” and Miriam offered to call the cops.
This got Button to move on, although not before offering Linda his card: Customer Satisfaction Liaison, Weather Aboveground. Linda put it in her mouth and chewed. Button walked out the door.
“You’re getting stalkers now?” asked Miriam.
Linda spit out the card, “He was like, obsessed, with Weather Choose,” she said. “I didn’t choose today. But I don’t know how he knew that.”
“It’s the conversation we’re all having,” Miriam imitated Button’s rallying cry.
“What if I don’t want to have a conversation?” said Linda. “Why can’t we go back to letting the weather be spontaneous.” Linda was never spontaneous, but she was frequently apathetic.
Miriam laughed. She and her husband had debated one night letting the kids download the app, and then picking, say, sleet in the middle of summer. Get them started in some baby culture jamming. But they had forgotten about it by the morning on their family outing to the “Real Paper Books Store.”
It was creepy that they had sent someone around to talk to Linda in person about her lack of a vote, though. Miriam said Linda should call customer service to complain. “You’ve got a contact number right here.”
She prodded the chewed up business card with the end of a pencil.
Linda said she would. “Can you throw that out for me,” she asked Miriam.
“Ew. No! I’m not touching that.” Miriam flicked the chewed up wad off of the counter with her pencil.
Later that night, Linda tried to look up how to uninstall or unsubscribe or un-anything. That proved tricky. It didn’t just delete like her other apps. So she turned her energies to researching that dastardly “protest sticker,” Viva Coco.