Contact

I tap my keyfob to get out the door, and out the gates. I tap my travel card for the train. I decide against taking the driverless shuttle and walk to my building. Upon arrival, I tap my card to enter. I settle down and tap on my keyboard and various devices to communicate with everybody and anybody who has sent me messages and things to read. I attend a briefing where I listen to the presentation of the uber boss reaching out to us from the other side of the world.

I tap my watch to pay for coffee in the cafeteria. I tap my phone to e-pay my share of lunch. Naturally, throughout lunch, we’re all tapping our phones and catching up with all our other friends not at the table (or not even in the same country, or not even really known to us except via an avatar and a chosen moniker).

Because I have 12 minutes to spare before the end of lunch, I engage in a Scrabble game against an opponent I don’t know and have never seen but that beats me to a pulp.

I run into a problem with my email password so I call a helpdesk. I listen to a recording that gives me a list of eight numbers I can press, each with another 5 choices, then I listen to a Richard Clayderman recording for 22 minutes before the line of the person I need to speak to buzzes and says “the mailbox is full … please contact us via email …” which I can’t access because that’s my login problem in the first place.

I stop to get take-out after work and tap on the e-menu, adding extra sauce and opting for reduced sugar in my drink. I want to protest the higher cost of less sugar but there’s no “Contact Us” option. “Contact Us” could possibly be the greatest oxymoron of the 21st Century.

I stop to collect my laundry and tap my code, watching as the carousel whirls about and a metal arm hands me my coats.

When I get home, I say, “Hi, I’m back!”

And realise that, just like that, I’ve spoken more to the cactus than to any human being in the entire day.

RAGTAG DAILY PROMPT #70 ~ CONTACT