You know the kind of thing I’m talking about: that microwave door you open with a tuning fork, or the childhood TV you had to whack with a shoe every thirty seconds to keep the picture coming in clear. Or the cellphone that’s sort of cracked in half but works just fine as long as you remember to squeeze it together whenever you make a call. Something you own is broken, but not completely. Not if you’re willing to accommodate its idiosyncracies. And maybe, in the end, you spend far more time pandering to, say, your half-baked toaster oven than you would have spent replacing the damn thing. (But you just can’t bring yourself to go without.)
I’m writing an essay and I’m looking for stories about these kinds of accommodations. Are you codependent with your clothes dryer? Inappropriately invested in your coffeepot? Did you stay in a relationship with your GPS for far too long? What kept you from breaking up? Was it the cost? Sentimental value? Laziness? A sense of obstinate thrift, even if you
could afford to replace it? Eco-considerations? A desire to thwart a manufacturer that won’t make repairs, because they want to force you to upgrade? Tell me!
The New York Times had a recent
article about low-tech fixes for high-tech problems. These are great, but not quite what I’m looking for: I want stories about
ongoing accommodations to the slightly-broken, rather than one-time DIY fixes.
Alternately, if you’ve got links to articles or studies about technological dependence or planned obsolescence (I’ve seen
this post), hit me up—and thanks!
Bought a new lock and strikeplate and chiseled away the recess for the strikeplate so it would line up correctly. The whole thing cost me about $30 and an hour's work, and it had been bugging me and my wife for over a year. I felt pretty dumb. There was no reason not to have dealt with it sooner.
posted by adamrice at 9:24 AM on March 4, 2009