pinishment: when tiny objects hold all the power
Okay, folks, I'm calling it: Sisyphus had it easy. His boulder? Child's play. No, the true test of human endurance in the 21st century is the never-ending hunt for the tiny pin. You know the one – that little sliver of metal that holds the key to maintaining our electronics, our sanity, and yes, even our social lives.
Case in point: our electric doorbell. This thing is the bane of my existence. It's got a rechargeable battery, which sounds great in theory, but the pin needed to recharge it? Forget about it. It's like it disappears into another dimension the second we put it down.
The result? Missed deliveries. Friends left standing in the rain, wondering if we've suddenly moved to Siberia. And a deep, pervasive sense of pinishment that hangs over our household like a dark cloud. It’s that feeling that we’re failing at this whole "adulting" thing because we can't keep track of a tiny piece of metal.
pinishment
\ˈpi-nish-mənt\
Etymology: A portmanteau of "punishment" and "pin," highlighting the punitive nature of needing a specific, easily lost object for a simple task.
Noun:
1. The feeling of being deliberately inconvenienced or tormented by technology designers who require a specific, easily lost pin for resetting a device.
2. A disproportionate level of frustration caused by the seemingly simple act of needing to reset a device, magnified by the absence of the necessary pin
3. (Figurative) Any situation where a minor obstacle or missing element creates a disproportionately large amount of frustration and difficulty, leaving one feeling as though they are being unfairly punished.
And it's not just doorbells, is it? Oh no, the scourge of the pin extends far beyond grownup devices. Children's toys, those infernal contraptions that require a PhD in engineering just to change the batteries, are equally guilty. I find myself angrily ransacking the house for that elusive tool: the miniature screwdriver — a needle in a haystack of household clutter.
Perhaps there's a word for this, too. Screwdrivery, perhaps? Or maybe toyment?
But no, pinishment captures it perfectly. That exquisite blend of frustration, futility, and the nagging suspicion that we are being deliberately tormented by the minimalist design gods of Silicon Valley.
But hey, at least we're not alone in this, right? We're all united in our shared struggle against the tyranny of the tiny. And maybe, just maybe, one day we'll find a way to overcome it. Or at least find a really good hiding spot for that darn pin.
