Jason Weigandt



Long before we had GPS units in our phones—which is basically .0000000001 percent of the evolutionary step of mankind on earth but feels like life on another planet altogether—man and woman used to argue about directions. The fundamental complaint? A lost man will not ask for help, but will instead double down on his paper map. A lost woman will ask for help and likely find the right way sooner.

These things happened a long time ago, back in an age when it was okay to make stereotypical statements about the way men and women did things. Now, I'm risking a fireable offense just to tell story above.

Today, there is no need to argue over directions because THERE ARE NO DIRECTIONS. Your phone does the mapping, and while Ikea furniture keeps the flame alive for paper "constructions," opportunities are rare. We spend more time working with technology than we do building furniture. And guess what? Tech doesn't have directions. It has help menus, but even in these polarized times, everyone can agree that a help menu offers ZERO help.

Perhaps because of that, menus are getting streamlined. Many app interfaces no longer even feature words in a menu; just straight lines. It's up to you to be cool enough to understand what they represent.

The tech space has taken the New York/New Jersey approach. And that is, basically, if you have to ask, you're clearly too dumb to understand, so get lost, you bum. You either already know it, or you're a dumbass. We're not explaining a damned thing, but we will make fun of you behind your back for the next ten years for not understanding.

What's the difference between a Facebook wall and a newsfeed? I have no idea. How do you use FaceTime on your computer? Dunno. I can't ask Siri because she might refer me to the useless help menus. I can't ask my friends because they will go Jersey on me. I can't read the instructions, because there aren't any.

Basically, it's up to man to figure it out for himself. Wait—maybe nothing has changed.