
Is Anyone There? How Everything Feels So Impersonal These Days
There was a time when you could walk into a room, talk to a real person, and feel heard. Lately, though, it feels like everything is automated, technical, and mechanical.
Divorce, for example, is such a deeply personal experience. When I hired my attorney, I expected more human connection—someone who would understand that this isn’t just a case file; it’s my life. But instead, everything feels so formal. There are no in-person visits and barely any virtual or voice calls. The emails are strictly business, and while they’re doing a phenomenal job handling the legal aspects, I can’t help but wish there was more effort to connect on a human level. For something this personal, it just feels too impersonal.
Then there’s Google. Ah, the joys of trying to get help with anything Google-related. I’m no stranger to technology, but after hitting dead end after dead end with automated responses, the frustration builds. I’ve already reached the point where I’m practically begging, “Can I please talk to a real person?” But instead, I’m led in circles by chatbots and endless FAQ pages that never quite address the issue. It leaves you feeling powerless, like your problem isn’t important enough for real help.
Here’s the thing: technology has made life so much easier. Don’t get me wrong, I love the convenience. I can book appointments online, get things delivered in a day, and find answers to almost any question with a quick search. But in making things more efficient, we’ve swung from one extreme to the other. We’ve traded real conversations and human connection for speed and convenience. And while efficiency is great, we need balance.
Human connection offers something technology can’t replicate: empathy. It’s what makes you feel seen, heard, and valued as a person, not just another number in the queue. Whether it's a compassionate ear during a personal crisis or simply a voice on the other end of the line, these moments of connection make all the difference. They remind us that we’re not just interacting with systems, but with people who understand the complexities of what we’re going through.
We don’t need to give up all the conveniences of technology, but we could use more moments that remind us we’re human—moments that make us feel truly heard and understood.
Have you felt the same? Share your story in the comments—because maybe it’s not just me who’s asking, “Is anyone really there?”
xoxoxo
-The Not So Common Gal
Divorce, for example, is such a deeply personal experience. When I hired my attorney, I expected more human connection—someone who would understand that this isn’t just a case file; it’s my life. But instead, everything feels so formal. There are no in-person visits and barely any virtual or voice calls. The emails are strictly business, and while they’re doing a phenomenal job handling the legal aspects, I can’t help but wish there was more effort to connect on a human level. For something this personal, it just feels too impersonal.
Then there’s Google. Ah, the joys of trying to get help with anything Google-related. I’m no stranger to technology, but after hitting dead end after dead end with automated responses, the frustration builds. I’ve already reached the point where I’m practically begging, “Can I please talk to a real person?” But instead, I’m led in circles by chatbots and endless FAQ pages that never quite address the issue. It leaves you feeling powerless, like your problem isn’t important enough for real help.
Here’s the thing: technology has made life so much easier. Don’t get me wrong, I love the convenience. I can book appointments online, get things delivered in a day, and find answers to almost any question with a quick search. But in making things more efficient, we’ve swung from one extreme to the other. We’ve traded real conversations and human connection for speed and convenience. And while efficiency is great, we need balance.
Human connection offers something technology can’t replicate: empathy. It’s what makes you feel seen, heard, and valued as a person, not just another number in the queue. Whether it's a compassionate ear during a personal crisis or simply a voice on the other end of the line, these moments of connection make all the difference. They remind us that we’re not just interacting with systems, but with people who understand the complexities of what we’re going through.
We don’t need to give up all the conveniences of technology, but we could use more moments that remind us we’re human—moments that make us feel truly heard and understood.
Have you felt the same? Share your story in the comments—because maybe it’s not just me who’s asking, “Is anyone really there?”
xoxoxo
-The Not So Common Gal