When I was about 10 years old my parents bought me a brand new BMX bike. We didn't go down to the local bike shop to pick one out: we went to the local Sears outlet and ordered it out of the New York City Yellowpages-sized Sears catalog. Thus began one of many Great Tortured Waitings, whereupon young Joe would barely sleep at night, rush home after school only to be emotionally crushed by the package's absence, and wait at the kitchen window for the UPS man. The only saving grace, other than the short attention span of young Joe, was that every day was a bright new beginning, a day of great potential, a day when it might arrive.
Now the Great Tortured Waiting has been upgraded to the Big Sad Knowing followed by A Brief Anticipation. Automated package tracking has supplanted any warm, human surprise with cold, android facts. You will not get your precious Saddleback Leather man-bag today: it's been in MESQUITE, TX, US for 24 hours. How about today? Nope, it's been sitting in SAN PABLO, CA, US for 36 hours. Oh, look at me complaining about the wonder of efficient tracking of items across space and time, but I don't care -- I'll take the bliss of package-arrival ignorance over there-is-no-Santa knowledge. I love technology and make my career of it, but after a week of obsessively refreshing ups.com I think I'll become a package tracking Luddite.
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