I am becoming dumber

Please tell me I'm not

Feb 08, 2025

I’m becoming dumber isn’t a new realization. I’ve felt dumb before.

I’m the younger sibling - since the day I’ve gained conscience my brother has, in multiple instances proven I’m dumb. So the feeling isn’t new for me.

Sibling banters are fine, they don’t mean anything but fun.

However, I’ve failed in exams, scored 0 in same subject twice within two weeks — Incredible right? You can stop clapping now.

I’ve pulled a door which read push. I’ve pressed both buttons for an elevator when I wanted to go down a few floors. And I didn’t stop there, I pressed the button multiple times, thinking that it’ll make the elevator move faster.

Clearly not the smartest.

There are days when a series of unfortunate events make you question your own intelligence. It’s not some rare, once-in-a-lifetime disaster—it’s more like a slow-motion comedy of errors.

When one such day arrived it looked like any other regular day. Started with the sun rising in the east. Birds chirping, mothers scolding their kids to behave more like humans, fathers gargling and rinsing their mouths louder than big bang — you get the drill.

I was happy as I was planning to meet my friend. Good food and good company had me excited.

Being a person with a preference for plans, I started with making a reservation on mobile.

This is where the day started dropping hints at me.

If you’ve not been living under a rock (sorry insects) you must know that sometimes websites ask you to fill captcha to prove that you’re a human. Nothing new. However, to my luck the captcha I was given could’ve easily qualified for the IIT exam’s question paper. It took me 3 page loads to get a captcha which could prove me a human without making me look dumb. Tough start for me, but I was still excited.

At least give me an Indian reference. Source

Finally, I reached the restaurant, all set to devour some good food. But before that, I had to pass the next level in this obstacle course: The Digital Menu.

Gone are the days when a kind server would hand you a laminated menu card, allowing you to scan the offerings in peace. Now there’s just a tiny QR code sticker on the table, looking at me like I owe it money.

I scanned it. The website took 84 years to load. When it finally did, it was a PDF file. A 10-page document with font size smaller than my hopes and dreams. I zoomed in, scrolled endlessly, accidentally clicked a link that took me to an unrelated ad, and by the time I figured out where the starters ended and the main course began, my friend had already decided what to order. Meanwhile, I had closed the tab by mistake and had to start over. I thought technology was supposed to make things easier, but here I was, fighting for my right to eat like it was a reality show.

Just when I thought the worst was over, nature called. I confidently walked towards the washroom, only to be greeted by cryptic restroom signs.

I don’t know who designs these signs, but I suspect they are sadists. I very firmly believe their teacher never gave them the permission to go the washroom mid class and now these so called artists are taking revenge on others.

So we’re supposed to take a biology refresher to choose the correct door? Source

The door sign is supposed to tell me where I am supposed to pee. And if that requires me to first interpret and solve a logical reasoning question, I would prefer to go the public urinal. At least they’re kind enough to specify in clear and legible words.

सारा कलात्मक ज्ञान संडास के दरवाज़े पर दिखाना ज़रूरी है क्या?

Then there are the absurd gender stereotypes—one restaurant had a picture of a beer mug for men and a martini glass for women. What if I want a martini? Will the restroom police stop me at the door? And imagine this scenario if you’re drunk. You just want to pee, not participate in an escape room challenge. At this rate, people are going to start peeing in corners out of sheer confusion. Can we go back to the basics please?

Helpless me in front of the toilet door. Source

Having successfully navigated the restroom puzzle, I approached the sink, where I was met with another challenge: motion-sensor taps.

Remember the sadist who designed the bathroom sign? He took a course in plumbing and electronics and created these motion sensor taps.

I waved my hands around it like I was performing a spell. Nothing happened. I adjusted my angle, my height, the intensity of my desperation. Still dry.

A guy next to me just casually placed his hands under the tap and water flowed effortlessly, as if he was some chosen one. I tried again. Still nothing. I changed sinks. Still nothing. At this point, I had accepted my fate—I was simply unworthy of washing my hands.

And then, just as I was about to leave in shame, the tap finally activated. On its own. When I was nowhere near it. The tap had a sense of humor — though not a good one.

And don’t even get me started on those fancy soap dispensers that decide when you deserve soap. I once had to convince a dispenser I was worthy by waving my hands at different speeds and angles. I looked like I was trying to land a plane in a storm. Meanwhile, the person next to me got soap on their first try, probably because they have a PhD in interacting with motion sensors.

At this point, I’ve made peace with the fact that technology isn’t making me smarter—it’s just making me feel dumber.

We replaced paper menus with QR codes that make us work for our own dinner. We replaced clear washroom signs with modern art interpretations. And we replaced normal taps with over-engineered puzzles that seem to enjoy humiliating us.

I don’t know about you, but I’m one more CAPTCHA failure away from living in the mountains and herding goats. No QR codes, no cryptic signs, just me and my basic, dumb but happy existence.

Until then, I’ll just keep pressing the elevator button multiple times. You know, just in case. Maybe one day, technology will actually listen.

Do you share the same frustration like me when it comes to overuse of technology?

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