Are you living a really inconvenient life surrounded by “really convenient” devices? If you can break the spell of “convenience,” you’ll see how the illusory value of things just falls away.
This is an issue particularly with gadgets, tools, and appliances, but can also apply to other things you obtain in case of a particular eventuality.
Tools and appliances have particular functions: scissors cut, pots are for boiling, screwdrivers are for turning screws… With such clear uses, why would you want to get rid of them? Well, the danger lies right there—in their supposedly convenient functions.
My husband’s always eating out, so he never has enough vegetables. Juicers have bad press though, don’t they? People buy them and don’t use them. But this one’s different? The old ones were difficult to clean, but this one’s easy? I see. You just take this out? Well, it looks good. Convenient. I’ll have one—for the sake of my husband’s health.
It cooks on its own, wonderful for stews. But I can’t really think how I’m going to use it. It saves on gas and it’s safe, so that’s good. My friend used it for a year and said it was really convenient. She doesn’t exaggerate, and her cooking’s about the same level as mine. If she says it’s useful, then it must be. Maybe I’ll use it when the baby’s older and eats more. I’ll keep it a bit longer.
I don’t feel safe on this step ladder cutting these branches. The wife won’t help at all. Oh! The woman next door’s using something interesting. Looks good. Very quick. I’ll have a word with her. Long-handled pruners? Easy for women to use, you say? Really convenient? I see. We’ll try some. What? We’ve got some already? The wife bought some at the same time as you did? I didn’t know that. She’s always said she couldn’t reach the branches.
I’ve had a PC for about a year now and I feel I can just about use it for work. But I have more and more files and I keep losing track of where they are. I’m doing lots of different types of work now—maybe I’d better use that management software my colleague installed for me. Apparently, it sorts files automatically by name and date, and it’s got a good a search function. He said it was really good for people who use PCs for work. He persuaded me to have it. But I’m not sure about it. Can someone like me handle it? Maybe I could… once I’m more used to the PC. I suppose my colleague must be right. He knows all about computers. I’ll leave it installed for a while.
It’s such a pain cooking when you come home late. That’s the problem with living alone. I’m going to stock up with those frozen dinner meals Yuko recommended. They last a long time, so I won’t have to eat them all quickly. And when you want one, it’s only a question of heating it up. Yuko said they’re really convenient. Let’s have a look at the label. Yes, they keep for a while. Oh, I think I’ll buy ten.
So this is the cold compress advertised on TV? My daughter’s always getting a temperature, so it could be useful. The child in the ad seems very happy sleeping with one on his forehead. I’ll try one on Saya. I’ll ask the teacher which brand is best. They’re all the same, she says. It’s a really good idea to get a pack for the first-aid box, she says. Well, she works with children, so I’ll take her advice.
One only has to think of the constant profitability of pyramid sales schemes to see how enticing “convenience” can be. But you can see how the situations described above will pan out. The software in Situation 4 will remain a mystery, staying unused, taking up space on the hard drive. The person in Situation 5 will carry on eating out or grabbing pot noodles at a convenience store on the way home; microwave meals are not a part of her life, and by the time she remembers them, they’ll be past their use-by date…
Of course, most of the recommendations that we encounter in daily life come with the best of intentions, a factor which only makes things worse. People who’ve found something useful can be very persuasive, and when they say it will be “great for you” it’s very hard not to be persuaded.
Let me put this in a wider context. It seems to me that Japanese people in the decades after the war were swept up with this idea of “convenience.” Rice-cooker jars from electricity companies, twenty-four hour baths from gas companies, sticky-tape cutters from stationery companies, new models from motor companies—all marketed on the basis of “convenience.” The message was never a gentle “It’s really convenient, so why don’t you try it?” It was more a question of “It’s REALLY CONVENIENT so you’ve GOT TO use it!”
If you consider post-war history, it’s not surprising that a lot of housewives suffer from a kind of “really convenient” syndrome. I mentioned my mother’s generation in the introduction—they were particularly vulnerable. And it was infectious. A would recommend something to B and then B would recommend it to C and so on. (I can’t count the number of things I have that my mother has recommended as “convenient”!)
Another set of people who are particularly vulnerable to the “real convenience” syndrome are those who are entering a new stage of life. There’s the “really useful” business-card holder they get from an uncle when they start work, the flood of “really useful” gifts they receive when they first have children, the “really useful” pots and appliances a daughter gets from her mother when she moves away from home for the first time. They’ll give them a go and try their best to appreciate their convenience. But it doesn’t take long to find out that these extremely convenient items are nothing of the sort. They just get in the way.
Of course, having said all that, some things you get really are really useful. Just pick wisely.
The key is to know yourself.
You’re not someone else. You’re you. If you keep this in mind, then you’ll know that you don’t want things that don’t seem necessary. After the war every time a company developed a product it tried to create a demand for it. Their products didn’t develop in response to existing “needs”; the “needs” were generated for the product. I won’t go into a detailed discussion of marketing here, but what I will say is that it’s about time we were free from that kind of strategy.