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Purchasing Tech in the 2020s

Purchasing Technology in the 2020s

Hint: The Companies Aren’t Designing Them for You (Unless You’re a Subscription Payment in Human Form)

Back when I was growing up, buying technology—and no, not laptops or anything fancy, I mean dishwashers, toasters, and other thrilling domestic wonders—meant a pilgrimage to the department store or, if you were really fancy, a dedicated appliance store. (Yes, I’m ancient. Yes, I remember appliance stores. Yes, they had carpeting.)

First, you did your homework: magazines, library visits, possibly consulting the Oracle of Consumer Reports. Then, the great outing.

My parents would herd us kids into the car, and if the stars aligned, we’d be allowed to wait (sweating profusely) in the hot car with the windows cracked. If the universe hated us that day, we got dragged inside—where we’d trudge behind them for what felt like hours, staring at a sea of identical metal boxes. Some had buttons. Some didn’t. Some were shiny. Some were tragically “wood veneered.” All were mind-numbingly boring.

Eventually, after much parental bickering and gladiatorial combat with a salesman, they’d point at one—seemingly at random, as far as I could tell—and we’d go home with nothing more than a vague promise that our ancient, dog-damaged, dowel-handled dishwasher would someday be replaced.

Mom would be delighted. Dad would be cranky. I’d still be on daily dishwasher duty.

So… progress?

Supply and Demand (a.k.a. Capitalism for Masochists)

My parents believed in the holy trinity of appliance shopping: Research, Reason, and Rebates. They taught me that you should always aim for the best product at the lowest price your dignity could tolerate.

But what even is “best”? Is it the thing that breaks the least? Matches your avocado-colored kitchen? Has the easiest interface? Flashiest features? The one your neighbor doesn’t already own?

I used to believe—sweet, innocent fool that I was—that “supply and demand” meant if enough people wanted a feature, a company would swoop in, cape fluttering, and offer it. Like some benevolent capitalist Santa Claus.

Spoiler alert: that’s not how it works.

Choose Any Option You Want (from This Carefully Curated Selection of One)

Yes, yes, some companies will generously allow you to pay more to change the color of your car. How rebellious. But most of the time, the choices you’re given aren’t really choices—they’re just flavor text on the illusion of freedom.

When I bought my car (a purple Honda Fit—yes, purple, because obviously), I desperately wanted heated seats. And I could get them! As long as I was willing to pay for the most expensive model. (Reader, we did. Because no one wants to hear me complain about my frozen backside for the next decade.)

Other cars built on the same chassis didn’t offer heated seats at all. Or purple paint. Not because it was technically impossible—but because, for some unknowable reason buried deep in a spreadsheet, Honda decided that only people buying the fancy trim deserved warm butts and regal colors.

I asked the sales guy so many toddler-tier questions—

“But why can’t I get heated seats in this one?”
“Aren’t they the same underneath?”
“Why not?”
“BUT WHY?”—

that I’m surprised he didn’t walk into traffic.

At the Time, the Answer Was Cost (a.k.a. The Invisible Hand Gives You the Finger)

Now that I’ve got an MBA and a stack of overpriced textbooks to back me up, I get it. Companies run cost-benefit analyses. If they can move 1,000 dishwashers without a fancy rinse cycle and adding that cycle would only convince one extra person to buy, it’s a hard “nah.”

So yes, it’s still about supply and demand—just not your demand. It’s about their supply of profits.

And that would be fine—annoying, but fine—if that was where the nonsense stopped.

But then came the “Smart” revolution.

And everything got dumber.

Now It’s About Control (Shhhhh… And Also Greed. Lots of Greed.)

With the rise of the Internet of Things (IoT), companies discovered that they could slap a WiFi chip onto literally anything and call it innovation.

I’m looking directly at you, Brita WiFi Pitcher. And you, Hatch Baby Smart Changing Pad. Oh, and let’s not forget the “smart” toothbrushes, flossers, and… yes, even a “smart” fork. A FORK. 🙄
(Side note: yes, the links are affiliate links. Because if I’m going to rant about capitalist absurdity, I may as well make 13 cents off it.)

Now listen—I love a good gadget. My house is practically a shrine to gadgets. But I don’t need a utensil lecturing me about how fast I’m eating. If it nags me, it’s going in the drawer. Or I’ll just revert to caveman mode and eat with my hands. Faster and quieter.

The real issue isn’t just the absurdity—it’s that many of these “smart” products require you to connect them to an app or the internet. Allegedly, this is for your benefit: better tracking! Easier controls! More fun! (???)

Let me translate that for you:
The benefit is not for you. It’s for them.

Because if they can hook you into an app, they can:

  • Lock your favorite features behind a paywall
  • Track your every click, rinse, and brushstroke and sell it to advertisers
  • Keep you in their ecosystem like a sad little smart-home hostage
  • Push ads to your devices and call it “personalization”
  • Harvest your data like it’s Black Friday and then rewrite the terms and conditions so they can sell it to whoever waves the biggest check
  • Or, best of all, sell the company and let the new owners shrug and say, “Sorry, those privacy terms were with the old company.”

This isn’t about innovation. It’s about manipulation.

Companies want you dependent, compliant, and profitable. (Also, welcome to everything-as-a-subscription. Because we all loved renting movies so much, why not rent our toasters?)

The Companies Know What They’re Doing (and It Ain’t Altruism)

This whole rant was triggered by a YouTube video I watched today: I Won’t Connect My Dishwasher to Your Stupid Cloud by Level 2 Jeff. He bought a Bosch dishwasher because a consumer site said it was the best.

I have a Bosch too—not the same model, mine’s vintage (like fine wine or RadioShack). It has its quirks, but thank the forest spirits, it still lets me rinse dishes without an internet handshake.

Jeff makes some great points, especially about the absurdity of needing an app for your dishwasher. But he said:

“It lets your product designers get lazy.”

And I disagree.

Oh, no. They’re not lazy. They’re diabolically efficient.

I bet money there was a meeting—PowerPoint, snacks, the works—where a marketing exec cheerily said:

“What’s a feature people like but don’t really need? Let’s put that behind the app wall to increase signups!”

Of course, it wasn’t phrased so cynically. It was probably cloaked in rainbows and “enhanced user experience” buzzwords.

And so, rinse cycles and eco modes got app-locked.

Not because it made sense. Not because it was better. But because it nudged more people into downloading the app, creating an account, and entering the data funnel.

They’ll claim it’s for your convenience. You might be having a party right after returning from your European vacation! And don’t you want clean dishes when you walk in the door?

But let’s be real: this isn’t about you.

It’s about them.

And lucky us—we still get to pay for the privilege.

Unless, of course, we choose to buy a “dumb” dishwasher.

But seriously… who wants that?

Notes

Banner Image by Victoria from Pixabay

[1] When Disney acquired the Star Wars franchise, they also acquired a bunch of book rights. Then they just… stopped paying royalties. Their excuse? “Oh, those contracts were with Lucasfilm, not us.” Because nothing screams Disney magic like legal loopholes. Hollywood Reporter

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