Infrequently,
I take stock of my relationship with technology and marvel at both improvements
and declines. Yes, many transactions are
faster, better, smarter, cheaper and more convenient. Alas, others coarsen society, convert people
in to algorithmic decision points and remove joyful human interaction.
Today I
marvel at instances where the status quo has persisted, despite ample
opportunities for technological improvements.
Consider these examples:
1) Much of the
medical ecosystem still communicates via facsimile. In preparation for a total hip replacement, I
have to undergo a number of tests. The
exchange of test results from lab to doctor using a 1960s analog technology that
combines a scanner with a modem operating at a snail’s pace often at 14,400
bits per second. Care to estimate the
lost productivity in having to send and receive faxes? This week I had to devote considerable time
in confirming a diagnostic code change for a blood test. Two faxes ordering the change never made it
to the appropriate processor.
2) It still
takes 4-6 weeks for a magazine subscription to renew if you opt to use a
venture offering a lower price who has no direct affiliation with the
publisher. Perhaps they too communicate
by weekly faxes.
3) The IRS
still communicates primarily in person and by mail. Perhaps this tactic prevent some fraud as
many have received fake robocalls and emails from scammers posing as IRS
agents. Ok, I get that, but why can’t I
send necessary evidence to the IRS as a pdf file instead of—you guessed it—sending
a lengthy and time consuming fax?
4) My Comcast
set top box must remain on 24/7 even though my wife and I watch television for
less than 2 hrs a day. For more than 5
years, I have had recurring set top box issues.
I solved the issue (not a technician or the dozens of clueless customer
service reps) by inferring that the box missed some type of polling call from
the headend. Rather than resend the
poll, to re-authenticate my box, Comcast treated my box as offline or
worse. My solution uses more
electricity, because I no longer can turn the box off—Ever.
I’ll stop
now . . .
