Paper Beats Screen

There's something sneaky about a screen.

I was emailed an agreement the other day for some home repairs. I studied it every which way, but it didn’t permit me to print off the document until I’d electronically signed it.

Call me old fashioned, but I am somewhat of a traditionalist on such matters and prefer to read first and perhaps sign later.

Reading it electronically doesn’t cut it.

Anyway, they’re now mailing a copy to me.

We’ve gotten to the point where even a signature doesn’t mean a whole lot. Some wits have noted that the biggest lie on the Internet is “I have read and understand the terms and conditions.”

But my prejudice extends far beyond “Buyer Beware” territory.

I like to work from paper drafts. As a result, I’ll type up a document on my computer, then print it off for editing. I know this sounds a tad Luddite, but I can spot errors more quickly on the printed page than on a screen. I also like to maintain my error-spotting skills instead of delegating that task to my computer.

At least those are my practices. Whenever I mention them to younger people, I can see them wondering if I have a Jitterbug phone.

This “back to papyrus” mentality, however, is shared by millions of people, at least those who can remember Wallace Beery and Myrna Loy films. We also don’t like chatting with chatbots, figuring out the arcane workings of smartphones (a product that may indeed be possessed) or navigating the voice mail systems at doctor’s offices which seem designed to torment the ill.

I recall having to reach a Human Resources director back in the early days of answering machines. The matter was urgent and sensitive, and I was reluctant to leave a voicemail message but eventually was forced to do so because, after attempting to reach a real person anywhere – anywhere - in the organization, I concluded that was impossible.

I suspect that their phone system was made in East Germany.

But the overall voicemail process was stressful back then. You had around 25 seconds to remember your name and number and leave your message before the dreaded beep arrived and you were cut off.

You could tell the savvy messengers because they adopted a staccato style that could have described the entire Constitution within 12 seconds. In fact, the best and most sadistic of the callers knew how to leave just enough information to trigger your interest and fears and then – beep – they’d be gone just as your own machine turned on you and cut them off.

Before we arrive at the Robot Fan Club stage of civilization, let’s start a conspiracy to preserve a role for human beings.

Title isn’t important (although I personally prefer “Excellency.”) We may be called expediters or coordinators or interpreters, but the key thing will be that at some point, other people will be able to reach us.

Personally.

There should be key spots in this emerging new world for people who can do more than click on computer menus.

But we’ll need to carve those out.

And don’t forget the importance of paper. We’ll need plenty of paper.