Face It
I have a bone to pick with my computer’s facial recognition software.
When I bought this computer a couple of years ago, I liked that it offered an easier way to unlock the operating system than typing in a password: the little camera at the top of the monitor focuses on the user, the computer learns to recognize authorized users over time, and – in theory – at some point all I need to do is smile and say ‘Good Morning!’ and the computer should unlock itself and jump to attention, ready to work.
The problem is that I am also shown, on the screen, the image that the computer is seeing. So I KNOW that two years later, the only time this computer recognizes me right away is when I look like I’m being photographed for my mug shot. That, or if I’m chewing.
If I have my hair fixed and I’m wearing makeup, forget it. The computer acts like we’ve never met. Same goes with shirts that are not of the sweat variety. It HATES earrings. On all those occasions, I get a “Computer Locked: Input Password” message.
But if I stumble into the office in the wee dark hours before the kids get up, wearing my Easter-pastel-colored flannel jammies and my hair sticking straight up, the computer is all, “Oh, hey Nancy, there you are, ‘sup!” If I sit down while wolfing a muffin that I was too distracted to realize should have been eaten in more than one bite, my computer is unlocked and off to the races before I can swallow. Today I tested it by sticking my tongue out and squinching up my eyes. Express Lane Open!
Look, I know I take full advantage of the fact that I work from home. I wear a t-shirt and jeans most days, and since I’m going to go hiking at lunchtime with the dog, it’s unethical to shower in the morning because there’s a drought and I’d just have to do it again in the afternoon. So why do more than just brush my teeth in the morning? It’s not until 3:30, when the first kid gets home from school, that anyone even sees what I’m wearing. It’s probably true that the Facial Recognition software sees me in my Vida Verde sweatshirt, or my What Would Joan Jett Do? Tshirt four days out of five.
But it’s hurtful when it acts like I’m a stranger, just because I managed to get lipstick and a necklace on before 2 pm.
So here’s the deal, software. Pretend, when I sit down looking like Walter Matthau, that you’ve never seen me before. Immediately lock yourself up, terrified, worried that I’ve been possessed by an evil spirit because I NEVER look that bad, and don’t relent until I come back wearing under eye concealer and a smile on my face.
And I won’t uninstall you.

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