Karthik Pasupathy

The dystopian future we read about in science fiction novels is already here. It just doesn't look like what we imagined.

Yes, there are no robots walking the streets or flying cars zooming over our heads. Not yet.

But we have something that is equally unsettling – a world where we can't simply exist without performing for an audience.

When was the last time you saw someone truly enjoy a concert? People watch live performances through their camera apps, ready to capture 'the right moment'. The music, the atmosphere, the collective joy of being as one and enjoying the music is gone. Every moment comes filtered through a smartphone display.

Travel isn't about discovery anymore. It's about content. People hop between Insta-worthy locations, trying to capture the perfect shot. They go looking for restaurants to post pictures of the amazing looking food they had. The joy of getting lost in a new city without an agenda, is almost extinct.

And you can't just create art anymore. You can't just write a book, run a magazine, write poetry, make art. You also need to be a "content creator." You need to hit a critical mass of followers to even get a publisher to notice you.

Every business owner must be an influencer. You can't rest until you've "cracked" it, because you have to grab the attention of your potential customers. “You have to get above the noise” as they say it.

You're not truly independent. You're always under pressure to create and perform. You can't be burnt out or take a break, because the algorithm wants you to post every day. Take a break, and you become invisible. The future of your business depends on engagement metrics, follower counts, and likes.

We've turned against each other too. We fight viciously over trivial things online. We've formed digital tribes, ready to attack anyone who questions our beliefs, our idols, or our choices.

We're uncertain about our kids' future. With AI coming into the picture and taking entry-level jobs, we have to question the very existence of schools, colleges, and careers.

Isn’t this dystopian enough?

We didn't need an authoritarian regime to control us. We built our own little bubble. And the scariest part? We're all willing participants. We have the key to break free. But we won't use it. Because somewhere along the way, our cage became our comfort zone.

Jimmy is a familiar name. At least among those who grew up in Tamil Nadu. It's the most common name for domesticated dogs that were born in the 80s, like how “Karthik” was common for most Tamil men born during the late 80s-90s.

I have vague memories of Jimmy when I grew up. I've heard most of it through my mom and dad.

I'm not sure how Jimmy came into our family. Dad said a friend of his brought in a stray pup, and it got the name “Jimmy”. What can I say? My family lacked creativity, and they didn't want to name the pup “Subramani” after Moondram Pirai.

Jimmy grew up too pampered. Dad used to say Jimmy knew the sound of dad's cycle bell when he entered the street, and he could hear the barking from far away. My dad had another associate – a cat. It was a weird one. It used to visit our house only for meals, and it ate namkeen all the time. My family always had a pack of 'kaara sevu' in a giant Calcium Sandoz bottle on top of the TV unit, just for the cat.

Apart from eating the 'Kaara sevu', the cat hung out with Jimmy in the afternoons, and spent the evenings on a compound wall at the end of the street. When my dad entered the street, the cat used to walk over compound walls, along with my dad. Jimmy, on the other hand, was lazy. Lazy enough to look at a robber once and sleep again.

One night, everyone at the house was sound asleep. A robber jumped into our house and opened the window to take a peek inside. He was daring enough to stand next to sleeping Jimmy. Jimmy, being the mighty, woke up, looked at him, and slept again. Makes me think if Jimmy is the laziest dog that ever lived.

My dad's elder sister, who's a bit of a hard nut to crack, melted every time she was around Jimmy. The dog always got VIP treatment around her. Legend says I used to wrestle with the dog when I was a toddler. Mom used to say whenever we went to Chennai for vacation, the dog wouldn't let us in until we gave him six months' worth of cuddles and kisses.

Jimmy lived a full life. We came to know about Jimmy’s end through an inland letter. We didn’t have a phone back then, and we were living far away. We couldn't go. But we knew Jimmy was buried somewhere in our backyard. I don't know if my dad cried. But, he never adopted a dog again. He said he won't be able to bear the loss of another Jimmy.

A few years later, we moved back to the house Jimmy grew up in. We spent the next 15 years in that house. And dad hardly mentioned Jimmy. Several times, I've seen him sit on the porch smoking a cigarette, lost in his thoughts. Was he thinking of Jimmy? Was he regretting not being with him in his last moments? I never figured out. If I'm thinking of Jimmy every now and then, I bet he would've too…more than I ever could.

Takeaway: Most times, customer experience comes as a result of common sense. I realized it last week while sitting at a restaurant.

The Story: It’s been a while since I and Suba went on a dinner date. Pregnancy and the kid kept us busy for the last six months. Also, after my daughter was born, we were always too tired to sneak out and get some dinner even if we had the chance. All we had the energy for was a short walk and a cup of tea.

So it is natural for us to get excited when we heard about the new seafood restaurant that opened in the vicinity. We decided to do a proper dinner this time. So, we made careful planning two weeks in advance to squeeze 90 minutes of our time for a quick dinner. We were looking for the right moment and it came in on a Friday evening. We got buy-in from my mom who agreed to watch the kid while we were out.

As we entered the restaurant, a Tamil guy opened the door and said “namaste”. I don’t understand why! (Because ‘namaste’ is a Hindi word and we no way look like people from the North). But that’s not important in this story.\

The restaurant was a fine dining place and it looked the part. Fancy lights, a large seating area, props on the wall fitting the beach vibe, etc. Even the waiters wore bright floral shirts to fit into the theme.

The experience was great right from the beginning. A waitress saw us walking in, opened the door, and walked us to our table. She pulled the chairs for us to sit on and even suggested the best items on the menu. The food came in and it was great. The speakers were playing M.S. Viswanathan hits, which gave the place a different vibe. The classic playlist was effortless to listen to and we were having a good time. Everything was on point until I heard the ad.

I felt like I was snapped back to reality. Everything I was vibing to until then came to a standstill. The playlist was from YouTube and it started playing ads in the middle of the song. I only thought I had in my at that moment was “How much will it cost the restaurant to buy a YouTube premium subscription?

It’s ₹1250 (~$15 USD) for a whole year. I know it because I have a subscription.

That’s the average bill amount in the restaurant for a party of two. Even with all the math, we can certainly say $15 a year is not a huge expense for the restaurant.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to listen to YouTube ads on a fine set of speakers while I’m having dinner at a fancy restaurant. Probably the restaurant management would’ve thought “When we don’t have live music, let’s play songs from YouTube. It’s free anyway!

Companies should realize that even the smallest things matter when it comes to customer experience. I wrote about this a couple of years back, an incident where cutting a chole bhature in half before frying it gave us a memorable customer experience.

I can recall another personal experience from 2014. A bunch of friends visited a barbeque restaurant for lunch on a rainy day and our clothes got wet. The restaurant gave us T-shirts and took our clothes for drying. After our lunch, we got back our clothes neat and dry. The restaurant didn’t have to do that. But, they did, because they want us to feel comfortable right from the beginning. That is the key to a good customer experience.

The size of the brand doesn’t matter when it comes to customer experience. It is the mindset of the people who are running it that matters. The people behind the best brands understand how the little things matter and execute them in order to deliver an exceptional customer experience. I wish more brands understand the importance of customer experience and work towards it.