Technostressed out
I’m defaulting to emojis and it pains me so,
Sending oscillating hands rather than ‘Hey, hello’,
Cos howling Scream masks and a wavy bro,
Bring the kind of emphasis I’m aiming for
Now I’d rather kick it old school like Eusebio,
Because I thought this was a phase, a fucking baby-grow,
Rose tinted spectacles? Maybe, though,
Real words are important, but wreck all our patience,
Just one small symptom of tech infiltration
We’re men not machines, but the lines they are blurring,
Hearts are still beating, and minds they are whirring,
And now we’re marooned thanks to wily Corona,
Relying on tools that slyly control you,
It’s the sickest of jokes, The Truman Deception,
Needing tech to facilitate human connection
Now I’m not technophobic, or a silent retreater,
My showers are discos, a wireless speaker
enhances my vibe without electrocution,
and Whatsapp is handy, but when the solution
sees us enslaved by chiming devices,
It’s time that we evaluate what the price is
A daily, remote, omni -channel bombardment,
Emails and phone calls, we’re just getting started,
There’s Zoom, Slack and Whatsapp, with multiple channels
devoted to each, not once in the annals
of our history have we been so required,
In so many places when so very tired
Plus we seem to do more while grafting online,
When back in the office, passing the time
with the odd little think or some casual speaking,
Was just as important as what you’re completing
Plus stopping is hard, being alone can confuse you,
You can’t put your scarf on, close your computer
and head for a pint at the localest boozer,
You’ll work a bit later, A vocalist soothes you
and Spotify helps, but it’s bad for you brain,
We must separate or we can go insane,
And the fallacy’s clear, we observe it and groan,
That we’re living at work, not working at home
This topic’s been covered, believe, I’m aware,
‘Put down your phone and breathe in the air’,
Prompting eye-rolls and beleaguering stares,
‘Leave it out mate, don’t bleat in my ear’,
But now things are different, I feel it in here,
Worked face-to-face with divas for years,
Drowning in decibels, spit and confusion
from the drunk and irate but the certainly human
Moved to an office, a clerical time,
Developed a paunch and a terrible spine
and looked at a screen for what felt problematic
but still interacted with helpful dynamics
of people and teams and that kettle alliance,
Tech flipping startups with reticent clients,
Then one day it’s over, you’re sat where you sleep,
And you tidy your room for your boss, and it’s bleak
Bad Wi-Fi signal? I’d much rather run,
The scene’s like the restaurant in Godfather 1,
Unbearable tension, hidden with laughter,
And murderous vibes that linger thereafter
Let’s look at both sides, sit on the joint,
The ‘get off your phone’ lot are missing the point
cos if they passed by, in the morning, the bloke who
sits with a broadsheet, scrawling Sudoku,
They’d maybe think ‘Wow, this guys intellectual’
These judgements are subtle, but not imperceptible,
Same apps on his handset, your man would convince the
self-righteous army to blame it on Insta
Yet from spit-soaked handshakes, to virtual signatures,
We move exponentially, further inhibitors
dressed as convenience render us empty,
As warm algorithmic vendors can tempt me
to buy something else, just look at the screen,
Super like her, she looks good in them jeans,
We’re losing our souls, and I’ve not been this frightened
Since young Ralph and Piggy got lost on the island
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