Troglodyte 

A pile of papers. So old school.

Times have changed. Things are faster. We have the internet. And cellphones. And wireless earbuds.

I can imagine that I’d want to make snickerdoodle cookies because the New York Times emailed me a link to a recipe on their site. And I could realize that I didn’t have a decent cooling rack for cookies. I used the phone that I got the email on and that I read the recipe on to research and order a cooling rack. It will be delivered in less than 24 hours. The transaction–including comparison shopping–took less than 10 minutes.

I got a call today from the loan processor guy. He is different from the loan origination guy, who is different from the loan paper-compiling guy, who is different from the house appraiser guy, who is different from some woman I spoke to who apologized that the cryptic automatically generated email reached me before she could call. Especially because the email said it was following up on her call that she had yet to make. They all seem to like the telephone. They use email to tell me to ring them. 

So the loan processor guy called to say everything was great, and all he needed was a phone number for my HR department. A landline. It was just in case they wanted to do a last minute employment verification. Sometimes the underwriter guys do that. 

I work for a pretty large organization. The company has been working to accommodate a modern workforce. It’s been focusing on building a virtual work environment. I haven’t had a landline myself for four years. I don’t have an office. We hotel–meaning no assigned, permanent seats. Most people work from home at least a few days a week. Some work from home all the time. We’re mobile and flexible. It’s 2017. 

I didn’t know what to say, so I told him I’d email him the info. 

Even though I started the transaction online, I felt like I was stepping into a time warp. It wasn’t that different from the last time I got a mortgage–twenty-five years ago. 

I sent a query out over our Slack channel to get the answer about HR. 

This just seems to be harder than it needs to be. It’s not really hard, but I can’t stop wondering if it couldn’t be easier. I’m sure in a week or ten days, I won’t be thinking about it at all. It will be done. Friction and all. But I kinda want to let them know that 1995 called–to release them. 

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