Erm, I am old enough to remember a time when products just did one thing. They didnt multitask. They didnt promise to change your life. They didnt communicate with each other... or need to. When the toaster malfunctioned one day, grilling the bread slices until they were black and smoking, my dad didnt chuck it in the bin. He took it down into the cellar, where his tools where, and took it apart to see what was wrong. Mending things was his passion. The only time I saw a toaster like ours was in a museum - in a glass case, with a label attached - whereas ours sat on a kitchen worktop, turning out toast day after day.
We didnt need to upgrade the operating system every six months, only to find the toaster would only work with brown bread until the manufacturer issued a software patch that dealt with some of the conflicts. The toaster was never infected by viruses, or malware, or malicious code written by a disenchanted teenage hacker in Montana or Minsk. We didnt need to read a manual the size of a telephone directory to understand how the toaster worked. In an early 20th century nod to a digital future, the control panel was simplicity itself: just an on/off switch. We didnt need to read the help files, or go to an online users forum to find out why the toaster might be making funny noises.
We didnt wake up in the middle up the night, fretting about whether it was time to upgrade the toaster to version 2.0, or just stick with the old one until version 2.5 came out (most likely the following spring, as we read on ToasterRumours). We didnt pay a monthly fee for unlimited toast, only to get an email from the provider informing us that our toasting activities were being capped at 125 slices per month, and that beyond this figure we would now be charged $25 per slice. We didnt need to spend three hours on a helpline, speaking to a guy in Mumbai, just to get our contract cancelled.
This is why my little voice recorder appeals to me. It sits in my pocket and takes my notes, at every time of asking, when I press the record button with my thumb. A simple tool for a simple man...