Farting around
The life of a robot doesn't sound very fun
I came across a Kurt Vonnegut quote on the wonders of inefficiency. It's worth reading in full, but the gist of it is that he enjoys doing things the old fashioned, roundabout way. He spent the day running errands he could have outsourced or avoided:
“And I’ve had a hell of a good time. And I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don’t let anybody tell you any different.”
One of the great cruelties of care work is its demand that we be efficient. We need to do everything optimally, perfectly. The members of our treatment team frequently imply — or outright declare — that if we make any mistakes or deviations the result will be doom. There is no time to fart around, because lives are at stake.
And yet, we must. We just have no choice about it. We cannot fart around with our friends in a cafe or at the mall or on the beach. We are required to fart around in waiting rooms. We fart around while on hold with the doctor's office and the insurance company. We cannot stock up on medication and supplies, because of arcane rules that demand we get things in 30 day supplies, so we fart around the pharmacy when our order is not ready after they text us to come pick it up.
We spend our time going through the same motions. Waiting for the bus that's never on schedule. Circling for parking. Getting lost in the maze of medical complex hallways, only to discover our pre-approval didn’t go through or the procedure has been cancelled for some other reason. Day in and out, we are preparing things, distributing them, and cleaning up. We are cajoling and comforting. Our lives are slowly drained of color.
It seems like it could all be automated, because it's all so boring. Only, no, the monotony of care work is too complex to be handed over to robots. They keep trying and the results are deeply unimpressive. I met Grace, the nurse robot, at an event in Lisbon where medtech nerds were eagerly lining up to pose with her. After a demonstration, presentation, and Q&A, I remain uncertain of what it is that she can do that a smartwatch can't.
People who've moved to places like Lisbon from North America talk about how they love the way they've been forced to slow down. They cannot breeze through their to-do list in Palermo like they could in Chicago. The shop is closed, even though the sign on the window says it should be open. The one person who can do the thing they need at the office is out sick. They are told they need a document they've never heard of before, which may not exist. Or, most commonly, it just takes a while.
There's always a line of people ahead of you. Everything is preceded by and followed by chit chat. The computers are slow and there are so many screens of forms to click through. Everything needs to be printed, signed, and scanned. They'll tell you when it's ready. Or maybe they won't.
Vonnegut chose to buy envelopes one at a time, so as to have an excuse to stop by the newsstand. He chose to physically mail something in the first place. People move to Southern Europe with fantasies of a slower pace of life. The fantasy involved more time drinking cheap wine in charming squares and less time waiting for their number to be called in government offices, sure, but that's a minor detail. People don't get to opt into disability and care work. They didn’t choose to slow down and enjoy letting life unravel itself at its own meandering speed. What’s at stake is different.
I've met a lot of Portuguese people recently who seem quite content with the life they've ended up with. They can shrug off the unfairness and injustice of it all and get on with their day. I can't say if this is a part of Portuguese culture or if it's just one of those things I'm noticing in other people because it's a trait I want to cultivate in myself. The New Yorker in me frames it as being resigned to fate. Another part of me views it as having the capacity to be satisfied. To decide that, regardless of what we want or deserve, this is the life we have and we will make the best of it.
Some people accept the cards they’ve been dealt and play them well. I, meanwhile, am muttering with frustration that the bus is late and the errand I’m running shouldn’t need to be done in the first place.
I’m trying to learn to enjoy the opportunity to fart around, to chit chat and go with the flow, regardless of whether I've chosen it or not.