Carte blanche to Stéphane Dompierre | Farewell, be patient!

With their unique pen and their own sensitivity, artists present to us, in turn, their vision of the world around us. This week, we are giving carte blanche to Stéphane Dompierre.

Posted May 15

Stephane Dompierre
Author and editor

When I was a teenager, The Police was my favorite band. I was leaving Laval by bus to go to a rare record store in downtown Montreal, rue Sainte-Catherine. I asked to see the band’s 45s, hidden under the counter, which sometimes had an unreleased song on the B side. When I found a record I wanted, I bought it and, if it was too expensive, I ‘m going back, this time with more money.

As a young adult, the process became simpler: I could download songs to my big beige computer with my 56k modem. You had to be patient, but it was already faster than going to the store. And then, patient, I was: I come from the distant world of roller phones where reporting a number took three minutes and where you had to go and have your films developed in the store to get photos.

I come from a time when everything took time. And I wonder if patience, developed by force of circumstance, has not become obsolete.

When everything is going fast, being patient is no longer a virtue. It’s just unnecessary. Almost a flaw.

When someone sends me an email that doesn’t seem to require an immediate response, I still end up setting aside more urgent tasks to respond to it. I take it for granted that I must be wasting someone’s time. It’s not even my impatience that feeds my stress, it’s the hypothetical one that I attribute to others. After all, these are the people who, if I don’t answer their text within twenty seconds, call the police to report me missing. That said, I sometimes manage to pick up, to disregard these emergencies which are perhaps only in my head. In these moments, I say to myself: “Why do I still have clenched teeth and bulging eyes? What stresses me out like this? »

I found the answer one night when I couldn’t sleep: even technology has run out of patience.

My inbox is full. My communications aren’t going fast enough for him. When someone doesn’t reply, she sends me a reminder: “Sent three days ago. To restart ? People who aren’t responsive enough disgust him. She may even start them again for me soon. “We hadn’t heard from this person, but don’t worry, I found his number in your contacts and I texted him all night, we have our answer. »

Household appliances are also part of the game. When my fridge thinks its doors have been open too long, it sounds an alert tone.

– What are you kidding! Close my doors!

– Relax, I put the groceries!

– It’s not the time to relax, I’m losing degrees, hurry up, the expired sriracha sauce forgotten in the little too cold corner at the back of the fridge will end up thawing!

When my old dryer had finished its cycle and stopped, as long as I didn’t take the clothes out, it would go for three rounds every five minutes and ring. Three rounds, bell. Three rounds, bell. You tell yourself that after an hour, she’ll get tired of it, but no, she’s not getting tired of it. It’s a machine. She is impatient but stubborn.

– DING DING DING! Come and fold your laundry, damn lazy!

– Give me time, I put away the groceries!

I recently got a new washer-dryer set. When these devices have finished doing their business, they stop. And are silent. It’s wonderful, but it seemed strange to me. Very little up to date. So they are very relaxed, coudonc?

I soon discovered that they are WiFi and I can download software to my phone that will alert me when my load is finished or my clothes are dry. It seemed to me that this silence was suspicious. The worst part is that although I was very happy that they closed their eyes when they finished their task, I still tried to link the two devices to my phone. Yeah, if those two aren’t sending me alerts, it’s only because I couldn’t pair them to my cell. For lack of patience. Appliances yell at me and put pressure on me, but I want more.

I have adapted very well to my time: I am impatient and stressed for nothing, and I let myself be given orders by household appliances.

I no longer have anything of that teenager capable of wasting half a day to go and buy a 45 rpm, and I say this without nostalgia. Like many people, I subscribe to an on-demand music site. And if the song I want to hear doesn’t start with a click, because the WiFi is too slow, I get on my nerves.


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