Going Postal

I'm not going to make it to my homeowners association's annual meeting, so I wanted to send them my voting proxy form so they can have a quorum and get their business done -- even though I'm sure they'll be somewhat lost and confused without my savvy insights and rhetorical sharpness. Somehow, they've managed to muddle through several annual meetings without my participation, so I guess they've found some way to do business without me. But according to the letter they sent me, they truly do need my proxy form.

The problem was that I didn't have any stamps. So that means a trip to the Post Office.

It's the height of the holiday mailing season, and with my rampant introversion in full swing at the approach of the Solstice, I had no particular desire to brave the crowds and stand in line during the PO's normal business hours. So for me, it's absolutely great news that they have these Automated Postal Machines in each of the branch offices. I could zip over there in the wee hours of the morning, when I'm at my optimal functionality and all the normal people are still dreaming of sugarplums and whatnot.

The machines are only mildly annoying to use. They ask all sorts of inane questions about whether I'm mailing anthrax or dilithium crystals, and whether I'm aware of the delightful assortment of boxes available for purchase at the counter that I am using this machine specifically to avoid. And there's the triple annoyance of having to re-insert my credit card for each transaction when mailing multiple items. But overall, it beats the heck out of standing in line behind a million doting aunties mailing Tickle-Me-Elmos to their nieces and nephews in Peoria.

But the thing that caught my attention occurred at the end of the transaction. I normally walk away as soon as I hit the "NO" button when it asks if I need anything else. But this time, I stood there to put the stamps and receipt in my pocket, and happened to read the final message on the display screen.

"It's been a pleasure to serve you!"

Does this seem odd to you? A machine saying it derived pleasure from taking my money? I guess it doesn't bother me when a machine says "thank you", but..."It was a pleasure"? Just seems weird — Like Mr. Spock laughing, or Gomer Pyle singing opera.

I may seem paranoid, but even little things like giving machines the ability to utter polite, emotion-related canned responses...well, it moves us one step closer to the Terminator being able to pass the Turing Test. We need to halt this trend now. Please consider this as an open letter to postal machine programmers everywhere: Stop the madness before it's too late. Let's end our transactions with something obviously computeresque...perhaps "Process complete. End program." Save the "thank you" statements for the actual humans who work behind the counters.

Hey, it's just a suggestion. It won't keep me from using the automated postal center, I guess. Anyway, you have my best wishes for good luck with all of your holiday mailings, whether you stand in line or not. However you choose to approach your package deliveries, enjoy the season, and have a great day!