An Open Breakup Letter to Fax Machines
Dear Facsimiles, or "Fax Machines," as you've had us call you,
I think it’s time we see other technologies.
It’s not you, it’s me. Well, it's at least partially you. I feel like my need to digitally express myself has changed since we first met. You just don't meet my needs anymore.
You were incredible once, what with your printing messages onto 81/2x11 pieces of paper. But my friends are really pushing this "mobile" and "social media" and "software-as-a-service" stuff on me, and what they’re saying makes a lot of sense.
I'll always cherish your horrid ring blasting in my ears whenever I accidentally called you. And that sheer terror I felt when you started printing while we were the only ones in the office? Hauntingly beautiful.
Remember how I used to beat you like a pinata when you' stop working? Or when we almost killed the environment by wasting so much paper (not to mention time, ha!) printing every file to stuff away in those cluttered cabinets? We'll always have these memories.
So don’t take this personally but - actually, you know what? Forget it. That's exactly what you’d want!
It’s just like you to make me feel bad about moving on! It’s that same game you always play that somehow keeps you on people’s business cards! Nobody needs that kind of negativity in their life!
*Sigh... Alright, I’m cool.
Let's face it, you're terrible. I don't love you like I once did. Honestly, you're kind of just in the way at this point. But this shouldn't come as a surprise.
Really, you've been obsolete ever since we could digitally scan files and email them to anyone, anywhere. And we've come so far even since then!
Sure, in '87 you were all the rage. Everyone just had to have you. You were irresistible! My parents simply adored you. But now, Sweet Fax Machines, you're about as useful as a sack of bananas - minus the nutritional value, of course.
This break-up has been about 15 years in the making. I can't believe it's taken me this long to pluck up the courage!
There’s no need to act surprised. Besides, you'll still have plenty of IRS employees and elderly dentists to share your - erm - "traditional" ways with. I've just moved on.
They say parting is such sweet sorrow, but this feels really good. I don't need you. I will never need you! I’m way better off without you. So please, don't try to get me back while you still live in that filthy, abandoned RadioShack you call a home. It's time we both grow up, Fax Machines.
Everyone Under 50