May 15, 2026

Apple pie

We crashed Mrs Jacot’s table at my kids carnival. Her husband asked her if she got the food. She said that she struggled with the apple pie. She handed him her phone. He looked at me saying “man, this woman and technology…”. On my side we are the reverse. I’m the one in need of tech geriatric support. It took me a moment to realize that apple pie meant Apple Pay.

I later retold the story to my wife who missed the scene. She corrected me as I thought that the actual name of the app was simply called wallet and that Apple Pay was another app. I was wrong. Wallet is just the name of the app but the overarching service is Apple Pay. Most vendors refer to Apple Pay for all the types of payments offered by Apple Pay. I saw the stickers everywhere but used it only once. I only ever used the wallet app, thus my confusion. On the moment, I didn’t admit I was wrong which led to an argument. My wife called my denial. It turns out I don’t know what I don’t know. How crazy? It took me a few minutes to recognize my mistake. I then try to explain where it stemmed from. That led me to explain why I think shitty tech naming is bamboozling us consumers, and that we should respond with empathy rather than play the stupid game tech wants us to play. I wanted to talk about my beefs with tech. She was not having it. Which, I thought, proved my point. Apparently not.

The weekend after I found myself trying to setup my card in Apple Pay at the farmers market. I rushed out of the house with a cranky baby and forgot my wallet. It turns out you need to have your card on hand to set it up in Apple Pay wallet. I can see why, but I didn’t have it. So I had to put the content of my bag back. The Mexican vendor felt bad for me. Almost as bad as me. Then I had to bother 2 more vendors to find someone accepting Venmo. The farmers market all oozed empathy. The little payment method stickers on their stands, like their smiles looked honest but somehow subjugated. I packed my strawberries and my bad mood.

I thought the story was over until a few days ago. I’m waiting at the restroom of a coffee shop. A lady comes out a door marked for women. All the restrooms are occupied. She says: “there no reason why they are marked for women only”. I heard: “open your little mind and go take a leak. Don’t be that guy.“ A silent honor fell on me. For the lesson. Direct insight like tai message. A pressure point on my moral bladder. No witticism needed. Just a good old reminder from mom.

I retold my wife a few minutes later hoping to connect the dots. I tried to weave a typically long winded self-important and convoluted story. That time she smiled. On the way back we passed one of my favorite sign: Litter removal provided by empathy. I felt warm and full for at least 30min. That’s as good as it gets.