Let me tell you about my cat, Pom. Pom is technically a domestic animal, in the same way that lava is technically a building material. She is a small, fluffy tyrant with zero regard for international law, property rights, or upholstery. She looks like something you'd see on a greeting card, but do not be fooled: Pom is the Pablo Escobar of cats.
Last week, she climbed onto my sofa—my sofa, the one thing in my house that isn’t covered in cat hair or existential dread—and peed on it. Just peed. Right there. Like this was a normal Tuesday activity and not a declaration of war.
Meanwhile, I decided to escape this madness by doing something more relaxing: taking public transportation to London. Specifically, I was on my way to an Automattic meetup—a gathering of fine, civilised internet professionals who spend their days building tools for websites and not, for example, peeing on sofas. It was meant to be a professional day out. Productive. Enlightening. The kind of event that might restore your faith in humanity.
And for this privilege, I paid £110 to take a train. For an hour. That’s £1.83 a minute. For that kind of money, I expected complimentary caviar and a seatmate who recites haiku. Instead, I got a full screening of an action movie across the aisle—complete with explosions, dramatic yelling, and zero headphones.
Now, you may assume this cinematic offender was a teenager, perhaps even a twenty-something with ironic facial hair and a deep passion for loud things. But no. He was a man of advanced years—let’s say the sort of man who remembers the invention of the remote control. And he was watching Jason Statham murder half of Eastern Europe on volume 10, without the faintest flicker of shame.
It seems the older generation is catching up to the younger in the field of behaving like escaped zoo animals on public transport. And while I’m all for intergenerational equality, I’d prefer it not be in the realm of antisocial behaviour. Watching movies in public without headphones should be an imprisonable offence. At the very least, there ought to be a dedicated “Oblivious Media Consumption” carriage, walled off with soundproof glass and perhaps mild electric fencing.
I tried to read a book, but my brain was too busy screaming, “WHY DID I PAY £110 FOR THIS EXPERIENCE AND WHERE ARE THE EARPLUGS?”
You’d think this would be the low point of the day. But no.
I got home and, in a desperate bid for connection, visited a WordPress group I belong to—a place where people normally talk about blogs and maybe argue about fonts. Instead, I found what can only be described as an internet mosh pit. Someone asked an innocent question about plug-ins, and suddenly there were people throwing around expletives like rice at a wedding. At one point, someone called someone else a “SEO fascist,” which I’m 90% sure isn’t a real thing, but I wouldn’t rule it out.
Thankfully, the meetup itself was lovely. I got to spend time with James Kemp from Woo, who is incredibly nice and, I can confirm, fully domesticated. He is the kind of calm, thoughtful presence that reminds you not everyone in tech is yelling into a headset or plotting to turn your sofa into a crime scene. We talked about WooCommerce, the web, and other topics that did not involve furniture-based protests or aggressive swearing.
So, to recap: My cat has declared independence. My sofa is a biohazard. The internet is on fire. The train was a mobile panic attack that cost more than a small fridge. But at least I got a nice chat with James out of it.
I’m not saying society is collapsing. I’m just saying that if aliens are observing us right now, they’re definitely going with the “let it burn” option.
As for Pom, she’s currently asleep on a pile of freshly laundered towels, dreaming, I assume, of her next act of terrorism. I could try to train her, but at this point I think we both know who’s in charge.
And it’s not me.
Leave a Reply