Be Here Now
I am despondent. My dream job is fast becoming obsolete. Since I was a young child, after my first trip across the Golden Gate Bridge, I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up: a toll taker. You get to sit down all day and people hand you money. You’re not allowed to keep it, but hey, it’s the journey not the destination.
I’ve always been excellent at math so making change would have been no big deal. I’d be beaming going to work because I would love my job. I bet I would be named “Toll Taker of the Year” every year. I could hear other toll takers at the banquet: “Dan gets it again?”” Hey, have you ever seen him make change? There’s no one faster. Drivers could hand him a $100 bill and they’d barely have to stop to get their 93 dollars. I believe he has a gift.”
Nowadays, I rarely encounter them. I have a Fastrak transponder that lets out a soft double beep as I pass through the unmanned booth. There are at least six booths at the Golden Gate Bridge. Not a soul to be found. If you pass through without a transponder, they have your license plate on video. You get a bill the mail. Robots and cameras everywhere. You can’t get away with nuthin’.
Occasionally I’ll come across a bridge with a manned cash booth. I feel like stopping by to say, “Hang in there. There’s always cafeterias and all-you-can-eat buffets. They’d be lucky to get a seasoned pro like you.”I’m not sure where else you go. You’ve dedicated your life to taking tolls and making change. I can’t see an ideal exit strategy. It must be scary. Where else gives you government benefits and a retirement plan?
Two nights ago, I came upon a bridge I seldom use. Half the booths were gone. Instead, the was a horizontal bar extended above the highway. It detected my Fastrak and reassured me I’d paid when the transponder chirped twice. The toll booth is going the way of the phone booth. Indeed, most supermarkets and pharmacies, and even Costco, have self-checkout terminals. It’s so impersonal. On the bright side, there are fewer pimply teenagers unable to figure out change when you hand them $20.21 for a $5.21 purchase. “Uh, I have to get my manager.”
I imagine a retail future with no cashiers. Just a row of self-checkout machines with a backdrop of robots restocking the shelves. Customer service will be a bank of kiosks with interactive FAQ screens. There might be a single phone you can use to reach a mythical real person only to be put on hold forever until you finally give up and walk away.
Technology is draining away our opportunities for socialization. It used to be that if you wanted to meet a perspective mate, you had to get dolled up and go to a club or some other social event. Now, dating apps cut through all the clutter. But what about accuracy? You post a photograph of you on your best day ever, maybe two years and several pounds ago. You meet a respondent for coffee who seems fidgety the whole time because they don’t recognize you. That’s the trouble with glamour shots: You need to be glamorous all the time. Maybe you should post an unattractive picture, so your candidates are delighted and overwhelmed.
More and more people can’t sit idly at bus stops, waiting rooms, or in lines at the airport. They have their heads buried into their phones. No one makes eye contact until necessary. What about those moments when you catch someone’s eye, and they smile? Not an emoji texted to you an hour ago. But a real smile in real time. Do you smile back? Do you ignore them? Let’s say they’re not hitting on you. They just sense you are a kind person because you gave up your seat to pregnant woman. They want you to know your kindness has not gone unnoticed.
It all reminds me of the 70’s self-actualization guru, Werner Erhardt, founder of EST. I was not a follower or a fan. But his mantra, “Be here now” may have been preached before it’s time.
