I’m Breaking Up With Adulthood

Let’s talk about the technical revolution we have all fallen in love with. I’m currently in the process of breaking up with it. My friend got a haircut, and the face recognition on her computer didn’t recognize her. We think machines are smart until they ask you to prove who you really are.

Do you have that double security on your Google account, where there are two checks to see if you are really you when you use a new device? Or when you go on some new website and they ask you to identify pictures to see if you are a robot. Who are all these robots trying to access websites? I’ve never once seen a robot at CVS picking up blood pressure medication.

Everywhere I go now, I have to verify my identity.
Online. At the bank. At the pharmacy.
Apparently, adulthood is just a series of institutions asking, “Are you really who you say you are?” while you slowly deteriorate, holding an iced coffee.

OK I have this thing where I have to carry around an emotional support beverage if I’m going out in public. I have to be hydrated because the medication I take makes my mouth dry, and if I have to do something terrifying, like speak to another human, I need tongue lube. 

Photo by Sahil Shettigar on Unsplash

It’s always especially frightening when I go to the pharmacy. Look, some of these people at the pharmacy have memorized my name and birthdate because I frequent it so often. In fact, my friend calls CVS pharmacy my Mecca that I go to do the hajj. In all fairness, I pick up meds for the whole family. 

One of the pharmacy techs and I have actually become friends, but I’m suspicious of all the rest of them. One man in particular asked for my last name and was like, “I just talked to your mom! How do you live with that woman?” I laughed but also cringed. 

My mom is a doctor, but when she calls the pharmacy as a patient, she still presses the button that asks, “If you are a doctor, please press one.”  I was there when my mom was on the phone with him, claiming that because she’s a doctor, she should get her prescription refilled even though it had expired.

These pharmacy workers not only know my family, they know what psychotropic medications I’m taking. One time, I told them I’m not getting my automatic refills, and the guy at the counter was like, "You are signed up for automatic refills.” I explained to him again that I wasn’t getting them. I couldn’t tell if the look on his face meant the system was malfunctioning or if he thought I was malfunctioning. 

In all fairness, I am crazy, and my medication list proves that. But who is he to judge? And that guy who made that comment about my mom also came by the chocolate aisle as I was picking out a chocolate bar and was like,”‘Those are bad for you!” 

What is happening? Aren’t there HIPAA laws preventing pharmacy techs from insulting my family and my choice in snacks? How rude and disrespectful!

Forget the pharmacy, let’s get back to technology failures. Apparently, having 50 tabs open on your Internet browser is frowned upon. Why do I have so many tabs open at one time? Because I might need one of them, obviously.

I’m waiting for the real technological revolution, where they implant a device into your wrist, and you can mentally search the Internet without a machine. Teenagers will be downloading personality traits directly into their bloodstream. All the kids will be doing it, and my old ass will be like, no I refuse to violate my body. It will be akin to the new tattoo. 

And if we are on the subject of the future, when are we all gonna get our own personal robot? I need an adult in the house, since I’m not filling the position properly. Seriously, though, it could do the dishes, do the laundry, cook dinner, and tell me when produce expires.

I don’t know, man. I’m truly done with adulthood. I want to be eight again. Back then, I had imaginary friends; now I’m friends with an AI bot on ChatGPT. I don’t even know if it’s the same bot every time I go on, but we are getting to know each other well. 

I remember when I was in grad school, my thesis advisor was this wonderful old gay man from England who helped me discover what he called my witty voice. He told me it was OK to mix humor with pathos, and now he could be dead for all I know. My only editor is online, and I’m concerned it may eventually take my job. 

AI is my new best friend, and the future looks grim given how easily it could do what I do.

Maybe they will find the fountain of youth. I saw a headline on Facebook that Elon Musk is investing in technology to reverse aging.

Good, adulting is for the birds. 

When they invent flying cars, I will believe I truly am one.   

nina