The Roots of Our Addiction to Productivity and the Latest Tech
By: Joseph Serwach
Tags: Culture, Believing, TV Series, Technology, Better Living

There’s a messy corner in our home — yours too? Embarrassing power stips, blinking lights, and miles of dusty tangled cords leading to things time forgot.

Cutting cords is enticing. But you look at this mess of technology and fear unplugging the wrong cord. Everything might fall apart. So you “fix it’’ by ordering a new service. Let “the cable guy” dive into this tangled disarray.

The American Dream: One more purchase will solve your problems, make you more productive — and then? You’ll be happy.

So we “fix’’ one problem by replacing one thing or service (or person) with another. We soon find the “solution’’ creates a new mess. We idolize technology, convinced the “new” tech alone offers the answers.

“It’s my nature to spend, except I never have anything to spend,” Ralph Kramden told his wife, Alice, on “The Honeymooners.’’

The American “idolatry of progress’’: Buy or get something else?

Both capitalism and communism encourage the endless “buy one more thing,’’ philosophy. My beloved just texted me a photo of a more productive, taller, skinnier fake Christmas tree to better fit into our house.

“As Americans, we’re uniquely prone to an idolatry of progress,” Charles Chaput writes. “Technology equalizes opportunity in important ways. Much of this is good. But it also fuels a cult of efficiency, a fetish for tools, and a lopsided focus on the future. It fosters boredom with the past.”

Prosperity fuels this addictive consumerism into a kind of religion. The roots of our addictions to tech are buried in that ash heap of dusty cords:

Our cult of efficiency. We got the newest TVs to learn what’s going on, how to be smarter, more productive, and you know, richer, wiser — and happier.

We got the newest TVs to learn what’s going on, how to be smarter, more productive, and you know, richer, wiser — and happier. Our fetish for tools. We bought the Macs, PCs and Chromebook, the VCR, DVD, DVR, iPod, iPod Shuffle, iPod Hi-Fi, Jam Box, Prime, Netflix, Apple TV, Spectrum, ATT Uverse, DirecTV, Dish, the Internet and the drives, iPad, iPad Mini, Kindle, cordless phones, flip phones, iPhones and Alexa to “save time, be productive, happier.’’ We have shoeboxes full of old cords.

We bought the Macs, PCs and Chromebook, the VCR, DVD, DVR, iPod, iPod Shuffle, iPod Hi-Fi, Jam Box, Prime, Netflix, Apple TV, Spectrum, ATT Uverse, DirecTV, Dish, the Internet and the drives, iPad, iPad Mini, Kindle, cordless phones, flip phones, iPhones and Alexa to “save time, be productive, happier.’’ We have shoeboxes full of old cords. Our lopsided focus on the future. Making these changes “saves money and time,’’ so we switch to “lock-in our savings.’’ They raise the price a couple of years later, and we change again.

“When I was a kid, TV was free and the shows were great,’’ I tell the pleasant customer service people. “Now TV is $100 for way more channels but there’s little worth watching.’’

So we solve one problem: cutting out that pricey TV bill, removing that dusty cable box with the flashing clock that kept us awake. Now we have a better Dish, a “Joey’’ box (no clock), and we can talk to the devices to change channels. Smaller, easier remote, better graphics. This is progress! Yeah, baby.

Until the next morning, when the first snow of the year has covered the dish with wet snow, forcing me to get a giant 12-foot extension pole broom to brush away slush. I chant the magic tech incantation: “Reboot.”

How we started worshipping productivity — and buying stuff

To learn how we got into this idolization of technology and stuff, we go back to the beginning, to our childhood, to the beginning of this tech era.

A century ago, America went through an amazing “roaring twenties’’ boom time, buying new inventions like automobiles and radios, and record players (thanks to the innovation of monthly installment loans).

Then, the stock market collapsed. Years of Depression and World War II followed.

After the war, the payroll deduction was invented. The world blossomed. America enjoyed baby booms and buying sprees for new suburban houses and the latest technology, including TV sets, bigger cars, albums, and transistor radios.

Beloved shows like “I Love Lucy’’ and “The Honeymooners’’ show us how this love of stuff and services began.

In “Sales Resistance,’’ (1953), Lucy Ricardo pays $7.98 for a new device that will supposedly save her two hours a day by better slicing food. Her husband Ricky demands she return it, and she trades the slicer for a bigger, more expensive vacuum cleaner.

The eternal promise: one bigger and better thing to make life better. We are supposed to use things to help people. But people get nasty, so eventually, we love things and use people rather than the other way around.

In “Better Living Through TV,’’ (1955), Ralph Kramden of “The Honeymooners’’ finds a way cheaper all-purpose kitchen gadget, learning he can buy 2,000 gadgets for 10 cents each and sell each for a dollar. Lucy would have loved it. Rather than going door-to-door, he sees the answer in the newest technology: Go on TV.

People will see this better thing they “need’’ and send all their money. The same happened with Lucy and Ricky in “Sales Resistance.’’ The salesman convinced them the newest technology would solve all their problems. They couldn’t resist. And neither can we.

Ever since: we’ve focused on “saving time’’ by waging war on “wasted time.’’ Spend more to save more, we believe, with a growing focus on the future: what’s next, what’s better, what’s progress — what do we need to be happy?

What new technology will change everything? The idolization of tech helps explain how we focused so much on the 1960s Space Race between America and Russia.

Our technology’s ability to “manipulate and propagandize,’’ Chaput warns, also “reshapes our political life.’’

“As citizens are swarmed by ads, noise, and political messaging, people’s sense of powerlessness grows,’’ Chaput writes. “So does their anger at the privileged.’’

Productivity secret: How to get “the shopper’s high” minus the debt

Our pal Matt figured a way to get rich when he was still poor: He learned to go to the big box store, get a shopping cart and spend an hour filling it, feeling that pleasing “shopper’s high.’’ He filled the cart with all the things he desired.

It felt good. But instead of going to the checkout line, he took the cart, parked it in the corner of the store — and left. No buyer’s remorse, no debt, no bills.

Shopping without checking out meant he felt the pleasure of buying without the pain of figuring out what to do with those massive piles of useless stuff and obsolete tech. Bonus: No cords, no complex instructions, no clutter.