When my nephew Tom was little, he once informed my father:
“You’re not the Boss of me.”
This was said with the absolute confidence unique to small children who have not yet fully grasped the realities of power structures.
Dad demonstrated fairly quickly that he was, in fact, the Boss of him.
Not cruelly.
Just decisively and legitimately.
Which is entirely as it should be: parents and grandparents are supposed to be in charge.
Printers, less so.
The printer needs to calm down.
A replacement toner cartridge for my printer currently costs $148.50.
The exact same printer, brand new, including toner, costs $171.99.
But that’s a topic for another day, because the genuinely fascinating part is not the pricing.
It is the language.
Because modern printers no longer simply contain toner.
They contain opinions about toner.
Warnings appear informing you that:
“This cartridge may not be genuine.”
Which is extraordinary phrasing when you think about it.
It’s not saying the cartridge will damage the printer, or that it will likely reduce print quality.
No.
The printer is attempting to establish a moral hierarchy involving what is basically coloured dust.
And machines are doing this everywhere you look.
Dishwashers requiring Wi-Fi before they’ll consider washing the dishes.
Coffee machines requiring apps before starting to brew.
Devices insisting on software updates before agreeing to continue performing their original function.
Household appliances increasingly sound like middle managers attempting to assert dominance.
The interesting thing about this language is that it is chosen less to inform than to gently steer behaviour, like a helpful suggestion from Human Resources.
Approved accessories.
Unauthorised repair.
Security verification.
Humans accept authority remarkably well when the authority feels legitimate.
Parents.
Teachers.
Air traffic control.
Fine.
But the moment a printer attempts to establish moral superiority over our choice of toner, something ancient and stubborn activates deep within the human spirit.
You immediately want to install the least authorised cartridge imaginable out of pure psychological resistance.
Not because the printer is wrong.
But because the printer has clearly overstepped and needs to be reminded of its place.
Stay in your lane, Greg.
Humans possess a surprisingly durable instinctive response to unnecessary authority.
Namely:
“you’re not the Boss of me.”
Which is reassuring.
Because for all the increasingly elaborate systems surrounding modern life, humans still seem strangely committed to maintaining a degree of sovereignty over objects they physically own.
People still use generic toner.
Still share subscriptions.
Still tape over cameras.
And those outside Apple’s ecosystem still refuse software updates for entirely emotional reasons.
Civilisation continues advancing through small acts of mildly stubborn noncompliance.
Anyway.
The printer and I are going through a difficult period.