I’m madly waving my hand up and down over a sensor-operated toilet flush panel, which isn’t registering my existence. I switch up the motion, maybe a swipe to the right, Tinder-style? Nothing. Does the job, presses no buttons: an old-fashioned, pull-chain cistern.
Credit: Golding/Fairfax Media After a few minutes, my mind goes to dark places: is this a The Sixth Sense scenario where I am (spoiler alert) actually a ghost? I continue my alternating hand gestures like an incompetent clairvoyant, wondering if my wee is destined to mellow in there until the next occupant judges my lack of water intake. The frustration I experience at this moment is inordinate to the situation, which I’ve noticed happens when something high-tech doesn’t work. I’m going to call it “gadget grief”.
Gadget grief cycles through the same processes as the seven stages of grief, as I have, from denial (“Surely this high-tech toilet isn’t broken; it’s brand new!”) to anger (“Work, you overpriced piece of junk, or I’ll short-circuit your ass!”) to bargaining (“If I play it cool, will you work?”) and everything in between. Technology has made our lives easier in many ways, but there are times when automation is completely unnecessary. Pressing a button on a toilet isn’t that bad, is it? It doesn’t create burnout or give you a “menty b” (mental breakdown in Gen Z-lish).
Sure, it might be less hygienic, but we’ve all learnt how to wash our hands since the pandemic. The .
