For lack of better mother-daughter entertainment in Ithaca in the evenings, I got a dvd movie to watch for one of the evenings my mother was in town. She therefore got the novel experience of watching me use a redbox kiosk. "No wonder people are out of jobs." She marveled after we had read through a few synopses on the touchscreen, picked a movie, swiped my credit card, and out popped a movie
Thinking back to my childhood neighborhood movie rental shop in Taipei, I am not sure if the loss of movie rental personnel as an occupation has contributed significantly to unemployment. The small shop overflowing with VHS cassettes was run by a couple who usually took turns looking after operations, and the odd part-time (always young probably a student) employee or two would sometimes be there to relieve them. What was distinct about those days was that renting a movie required human interaction. The wife, much more sullen, rarely said anything. However, the husband was a friendly guy, and whether with my dad or by myself we would exchange small talk. Unlike netflix, he did not automatically make recommendations based on what we usually rented. But more useful than netflix, you could go up to him and say, we want to see that new movie with Harrison Ford in it, the one where he's like a spy or something, but we forget what it was called. And he would know what it was called, and go dig it out for us. Or we would notice the movie playing on the television behind the counter, which was perpetually playing something, and we could ask him what it was, and whether it was worth watching. Or we could ask him for the non-automatic recommendations in the form of "we want to watch something funny. do you have any funny?"
I've been thinking about the value of such interactions lately. Algorithms can't do such things yet, but I'm sure that maybe pretty soon they'll have most of the above transactions covered. Computer scientists are improving on algorithms that can recognise your tone of voice or emotion, and then respond appropriately. Machines may be able to do things better, faster and cheaper, but what is that sense of loss that keeps nagging me?
It irks me when I see a couple out for dinner or the movies, and they sit silently while one of the partners plays with their smartphone. Conversation. You could be having conversation I want to go remind them. I am also bothered by the prevalence of texting or e-mailing as a the main vehicle of communication. Don't get me wrong, I think these are wonderful inventions, smartphones and e-mail and texting and online chat. I love that my computer is as fast as the supercomputers were when I was 5 years old. It makes many things easier. But when my roommates send me an e-mail when we are both at home, I wonder, is it so terrible to talk to each other? I am also flabbergasted when people send me e-mails or texts a few hours before something important is happening, and expect me to respond or even see such things. I remember when I was little my sister and I would try to avoid answering the phone, and let the answering machine do the job, lest we have to speak awkwardly with one of our parents' friends. Nowadays, I am delighted when somebody calls me. I even relish calling costumer service, it's so much nicer talking to a person than clicking through online links listed in not so informative search results.
How do I quantify this "niceness" of human interactions? No it is probably not measurable in terms of monetary value, or immediate gain in profit margin. But I am convinced there is value in talking to another person, face to face, reading their emotions, navigating responses, feeling charmed or pleased or angry or frustrated. And I think it is worth the little inconvenience to perhaps preserve a bit of the human touch and stay somewhat connected, even for things we can automate.
