Screens added

connection subtracted

(photo credit to telemetry.com)

A recent statistic shows the percentage of people who say they are lonely continues to climb. It Is now something like 55%, whereas just a decade or so ago it was in the 20s.

As an elder, I am aware that while loneliness does not discriminate when it comes to age, the percentage of adults of my generation who experience it is of deep concern.

Today’s story might seem like a miniscule example. Some might say how can such a seemingly small change matter or that I have an old-fashioned view. Be that as it may, as all are welcome to their perspectives, it is like a little notch that has the potential to be a “connection subtraction.”

Today, when I arrived at the CVS prescription counter, I found a brand-new large screen waiting for me rather than a person. It asked for me to type in first and last name – hit continue – new screen - my month of birth – hit continue – new screen - the day of birth – hit continue – new screen - confirm the prescription name – hit continue or submit.

Upon completing that task, a young woman showed up looking at her version of the screen, silent.

I said, “This is an interesting addition that now takes away a personal connection with you,” upon which her face completely changed. She looked up from her screen, smiled and said, “Yes, hi, how are you?” and meant it.

Gratefully, I don’t depend on the CVS person who waits on me for my daily connection; however, there may well be those who do – or at other places during their only outing and social connection on any given day.

I see the connection not as a one-way benefit and delight that is about me, but a loss of a moment that might add joy or thanks or a sliver of interest in them to their day. That is what connections do and we never know the difference a word might make. I have received that gift and hopefully given that gift hundreds, thousands of times over the years.

Like a brief song with my favorite grocery store clerk.

Or patience with someone being trained to wait on customers for whom it takes longer to complete the transaction, acknowledging that we have been in their shoes.

The list goes on.

Sometimes it does not have to be even a minute.

It matters and the more machines we encounter as the impersonal connection, the more we lose touch with one another.

Logistically, it took more time for me to log in the information than if the person who had to come to fulfill the request had asked me as in the past.

I also thought about those who I have seen arriving to pick up prescriptions for whom the screen task is asking too much of them. Sight. Tapping just the right letters and numbers. Being able to read a group of words and choosing the right one.

Yet, missing the personal ,“Hi, how can I help you?”

To my thoughts on word count and how few it might take to mean something, those are 6 words a screen cannot say.

The difference was accentuated when I went from CVS to an independent pharmacy to pick up a prescription compounded for my cat. The greeting, brief conversation, and wishing my cat well was not that many more words than 6, maybe 36, and yet they mattered and I left feeling a added vibration of happiness and care to my day.

It is easy to assume in this age of technology that one more screen does not matter.

For me, and I believe I am not alone, the additions of screens and the subtraction of conversations and someone’s eyes meeting mine and mine meeting theirs, it does.

I am curious how it is for you.