After 200 posts, I still have a love/hate relationship with the Internet.
I mean that in the most literal sense: I love the opportunities the Internet has made possible, but I hate most of what comes with using it and interacting with people through it.
Without the Internet, I wouldn’t have a job right now. I certainly wouldn’t be able to cover the car industry from a house in Connecticut.
However, the Internet has also de-valued skills.
For many jobs, remote working has opened up a pool of applicants that literally spans the nation. People with job-specific skills are much more interchangeable than they ever have been.
That’s great if, like me, you want to write about cars without moving to Detroit, but it also means that being good at something just doesn’t cut it anymore.
People are expected to bring much more than relevant skills to a job; they’re expected to bring specific training, connections, and name recognition.
Some call this the entrepreneurial spirit; I call it blurring the line between work and life.
Because when people expect less from organizations, organizations expect more from people. So much for punching out at 5:00 p.m.
Those aren’t the only terms the Internet dictates.
We work for it: we design content for it, adapt messages to suit it, alter our language so that both humans and Google will comprehend it.
Then someone invents a new “breakthrough in communications” that must be satiated on its own terms.
Earlier this year I got a Twitter account, because everyone else has one.
As far as I can tell, Twitter is just a forum for anyone who has ever been involved with Star Trek, and a gruesomely effective way to relay information during a disaster.
Every time a celebrity does something, it explodes like a healthcare exchange website on October 1, 2013. I can’t see how this leads to productive discourse.
We shouldn’t feel obligated to make room for new social media in our lives, but we do. That’s what frustrates me the most about living in the shadow of the Internet.
After several generations of continuous technological progress, people seem resigned to the Digital Age being just another part of an inexorable historical movement. Nothing stays the same forever.
When I was in first grade I learned to type on beige Macs and play with floppy disks. The teachers said computers would one day be an important part of my life. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Even if we use a piece of technology, we should still be allowed to evaluate its effect on us, and tailor it to our lives–not the other way around.
The Internet has certainly changed the way people live, but whether “different ” really means “better” — and doesn’t mean “worse” is a determination we need to make. It’s easy to assume we have no agency in the face of progress, but we need to take account of how we use technology.