When Did the Internet Become a Workplace?

I’m becoming anti-internet and I hate it. For someone who love technology and all things digital, I'm over it, not because I hate the technology, nor is it due to being nostalgic for some imaginary better time. It feels like a job, and I didn’t sign up for this job, neither did you.

When did you start dreading picking up your phone?

Logging on for the day. The pretence. That small nagging feeling, oh no, I haven’t checked on so-and-so. I must scroll endlessly. I haven’t posted my optimised caption for this yet. We pick up our phones every millisecond. Am I really learning if I don’t take a screenshot and share it? How will I be seen as serious if I don’t take this same picture and post it? Oh great, another thing has gone viral, quick, let me create content about it.

Do you ever just stop and breathe?

When was the last time you took a full day offline? Yes, I know we have responsibilities. But when was the last time you didn’t feel like you had to rush out and buy the latest drop from whatever shop, whatever collaboration between X influencer and said brand? That you suddenly have to paint a part of your house green, put up beading and some form of tapestry wallpaper. We are all looking, seeking, adding “character and charm.” And then we frown because it’s all the same. What’s the point? It’s all the same.

And we are hooked to the numbers. We have downloaded and typed and prompted, edited, cut and chopped and layered, and oh, someone did the same thing, just tweaked their hashtags, and boom: viral. Meanwhile here you are, feeling rotten.

It’s not just online anymore.

The algorithm doesn’t stay in your phone. It’s in your living room now. Your closet. Your kitchen. It tells you what color to paint your walls, what aesthetic to perform, what drops to buy to prove you belong. You’re not curating digital content anymore, you’re curating your entire material existence according to what gets engagement.

Green paint. Beading. Tapestry wallpaper. Not because you want it, but because that’s what looks good in the feed. That’s what has “character.” That’s what performs.

Except the algorithm doesn’t want you to have character. It wants you to perform character in ways it can identify and monetise. And we do. We all do. The same drops. The same rooms. The same aesthetic. And then we feel empty because of course it’s all the same, we’re all following the same script.

Clones, clones, clones, more clones. Back in the day, yes, it’s worth saying, the computer was just a thing in a room in your house. You switched it on. You switched it off after a while. You went about your day. We did not have so much information about each other. And when it got too much, we were told: “Have you tried switching it off?”

Can we truly switch off now?

When our phones and watches and alarm clocks and lord knows what other gadgets we’ve all been influenced into buying constantly keep us in this state of appearance. You are never off the clock. Maybe to your physical job, but you must still log in online somewhere too.

To exist wholly offline is somewhat crazy. Not impractical. Not inconvenient. Crazy. Like there’s something wrong with you if you’re not plugged in.

Because if you’re not online, you’re not networking (missing opportunities). Not learning (falling behind). Not connecting (losing relationships). Not participating (irrelevant). Not building (wasting time). Not optimising (lazy).

The computer used to be a thing in a room. Now it’s the room you live in. You’re always inside it. Even when you’re physically elsewhere, you’re still in it,your watch buzzing, your phone pinging, your entire social and professional infrastructure assuming you’re reachable. It feels as if they didn’t just put the internet in your pocket. They made NOT having it there a form of social deviance.

Who are you when you’re not your online persona?

Do you remember? Or are you also chasing and hoping for something, lurking, watching, silently purchasing in hopes of belonging?

It’s all data now. Data this, data that. Cookie this, cookie that. Wrong passwords. Too many passwords. Password manager. No password manager. Oh, we’re fucked. 300+ sites with some form of personal data,let’s just sync it with Google or Apple or something else.

No. It’s too much.

Why must I become a micro-worker? Why must I comply with something just to exist? I just want to read a damn recipe, not see 15 ads and Amazon affiliate links.

Every login is labor. Every password is a task. Every “accept cookies” is unpaid data entry for a company’s profit margin.

You wanted to read a recipe. Instead you performed laour for Google, for Amazon affiliates, for ad networks, for data brokers. You gave them your attention, your clicks, your behavioral data, your purchase intent. And they gave you nothing but the chance to see the thing you came for. Congratulations you're the latest employee performing for platforms that give us nothing but the anxiety of potentially losing access if we stop.

I think it all needs a big rethink. I don’t have the answers. I never may, and that’s okay. But there has to be a way to live offline, or participate optionally, without having to become the content. Without being bombarded by a thousand pings, adverts, sales, and thoughts.

Maybe I should do as they used to say: Turn it off.

Not easy with this whole computer industrialisation. We all have some track record online.

But one can dare to dream.

Till next time

Reita