Will Wood, columnist (provided by Will Wood)
I immediately tell him to get off my lawn, but only after complaining about something completely different. I feel I need to establish my credibility first. I am a member of Generation X. Her parents’ VCR was set to record “Murder She Wrote.” I connected my mom’s girlfriend’s iPhone to her Wi-Fi and taught her how to use the car’s navigation features. A thousand years ago in the past, when the Navy stationed me a million miles from civilization, I ordered a book on the then-new Amazon. I don’t watch TV, I stream content.
In short, I’m no Luddite.
But I’m completely done with the app.
Nowadays, you need an app to do everything. If you want to secure a parking space before driving into the city, you need an app. If you want to pay your parking meter at Kennett Square, you need the app. If you want to park at your kid’s soccer game, you need an app. And all these parking apps are not the same. 3 parking spots, 3 parking apps. And you’ll need another app to get into the venue you originally planned to go to.
The dishwasher broke after an incredibly short 14 years. The repairman we called said it wasn’t worth repairing because the parts totaled more than a new dishwasher. Our new dishwasher comes with an app. And the manual states that the app unlocks different cycles that ensure optimal performance. In other words, a product called a mechanical dishwasher was shipped to us prepared to work properly, but unless you get the app and connect the dishwasher to Wi-Fi, it won’t work to its full potential. I can not do it.
Car companies are following the same path. Find an inelegant way to stick a big screen in the center of your dashboard and show off that you can use it to stream music, send and receive texts, and use your favorite apps (including navigation) To do. ) and everything else you can do with your phone.
In other words, your car has essentially become an extension of your phone. Nevertheless, in addition to that, my car has an app on my phone (also accessible from the car’s dashboard). My favorite bagel place has an app, and my favorite sandwich shop has an app, too. The people who work at the store where I buy my pet food keep telling me that I should cash out the rewards points I’m accumulating, but I have to download an app to earn the rewards.
When I got my first iPhone (iPhone 2G – it fits in the palm of my hand and has a rounded back), it had two screens of apps. Recently, as I was swiping through nine app screens to find something, my nine-year-old son said, “Dad, you need to be better organized.”
So I did that. I created a few “folders” and threw all the apps I didn’t use each week into them. Now he’s back to two screens. I quickly had to add a gym app and a new dishwasher app to this.
Back to the topic, I’m not a Luddite. I am completely dependent on my phone for a variety of functions including music, navigation, photos, banking, news, weather, email, text messages, entertainment, and more. I have a level app that I use from time to time at work. And a compass. And a decibel meter. During your vacation, it will tell you the sunrise, sunset, and tides. Yes, I also use it for phone calls.
It’s understandable why designers and engineers prefer apps. Apps are relatively cheap to develop, and much of the interface development work no longer needs to be done on the phone. There are fewer buttons in cars and on the front panels of home appliances. I think there are benefits for stores using the app to build loyalty, just like any other loyalty program. In all of these cases, apps also have the advantage of being able to track customer behavior more closely.
However, my dishwasher doesn’t need an app to perform at its best. That’s a design failure. We invite you to join us in resisting the application of everyday life.
Now get off my lawn.
Will Wood is a small (non-app) business owner, veteran, and semi-decent runner. He lives, works, and writes in Westchester.
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