When Did Everything Get So Damn Impersonal?

When Did Everything Get So Damn Impersonal?

I've been thinking about this a lot lately.

Actually... I'm a little pissed off about it.

When did everything get so damn impersonal?

Seriously.

We send Evites for weddings.

Texts instead of phone calls.

A heart emoji instead of actually telling someone we love them.

We order birthday gifts online, click “this is a gift,” type twelve words into a box, and consider the job done.

We automate thank-you emails.

We schedule birthday posts.

We have groceries dropped at the door without ever seeing another human being.

And God forbid someone actually calls instead of texting first.

Apparently that's terrifying now.

I'm not saying convenience is bad.

Trust me, I love Amazon showing up at my house just as much as the next person.

But somewhere along the way, I think we traded a little too much connection for convenience.

And I miss it.

I Miss People

I miss people stopping by.

I miss handwritten cards.

I miss knowing your neighbors well enough to knock on their door.

I miss bringing somebody dinner because life kicked their ass that week.

I miss invitations that someone actually took the time to write.

I miss sitting around a kitchen table talking about absolutely nothing important and somehow remembering that conversation twenty years later.

I miss people doing things simply because they thought of somebody.

Not because it was their birthday.

Not because Facebook reminded them.

Not because there was an obligation attached.

Just...

I saw this and thought of you.

I made extra, so I brought you some.

I know you've had a shitty week.

Come sit down. I made coffee.

When did that become unusual?

Everything Is So Damn Convenient Now

We've built an entire world around making sure we never have to be inconvenienced.

And again, I'm not giving up grocery pickup.

Let's not get crazy.

But human relationships are inconvenient sometimes.

People need things at bad times.

They talk too long.

They show up when the house is messy.

They need rides.

They need help moving.

They need somebody to listen to the same story for the fourth time.

Sometimes showing someone you care takes more than clicking a button.

And maybe that's exactly why it means something.

A handwritten note takes longer than a text.

Dropping something on someone's porch takes longer than sending an emoji.

Making cookies takes longer than DoorDash.

Sitting with someone who's struggling takes longer than writing, “Let me know if you need anything.”

But people remember that shit.

They remember who showed up.

And Now We Have AI

And yes, I'm fully aware of the irony here.

We have AI writing emails.

AI writing birthday messages.

AI planning weddings.

AI creating pictures of lives we aren't actually living.

AI can probably write a perfectly lovely sympathy card in about four seconds.

Technology can make life easier. It can help us create things, organize things and save time.

That isn't the part that bothers me.

What bothers me is when easier starts replacing human.

Because I don't think people are craving more polished.

I think we're craving more real.

More messy kitchens.

More handwritten notes with shitty handwriting.

More “I saw this and thought of you.”

More porch conversations.

More invitations.

More people actually looking at each other.

More evidence that another human being stopped what they were doing for five minutes and thought:

You matter to me.

Maybe You Miss It Too

Maybe that's why this has been weighing on me so much.

Because I don't think I'm the only one who misses it.

Maybe you miss knowing your neighbors.

Maybe you miss getting real mail that isn't a bill.

Maybe you miss family dinners where nobody was staring at a screen.

Maybe you miss people showing up without needing a reason.

Maybe you're tired of everything feeling like a transaction.

Buy this.

Click this.

Follow this.

Subscribe to this.

Optimize this.

Automate this.

For the love of God.

Can we just be people sometimes?

Because underneath all this convenience, I think a lot of us are lonely.

We have hundreds of Facebook friends and nobody to call when we need someone to help move a couch.

We know what people ate for breakfast but haven't sat across a table from them in two years.

We are more connected than we have ever been technologically...

and somehow sometimes feel less connected to actual people.

I Think That's What Suds & Buds Has Been About All Along

When I started Suds & Buds, I thought I was starting a business making products.

Soap.

Tallow.

Shower steamers.

Things I enjoyed creating and things I wanted my own family using.

And those things still matter.

But somewhere along the way, I realized the products aren't really the whole point.

Maybe they never were.

Because the thing I keep coming back to isn't soap.

It's the feeling of someone intentionally thinking about you.

It's:

I see you.

You matter.

You're not alone.

A gift is just the physical proof.

The note is proof.

The package sitting on the porch is proof.

The scent, the wrapping, the little details someone chose because they knew you would like them...

all of it says the same thing:

Someone thought of you.

And I think people need more of that.

Hell, I need more of that.

That's why this business keeps evolving into something bigger than products for me.

It's becoming about connection.

Thoughtful gifting.

Gathering people.

Family.

Community.

Helping people remember the people they love before another year flies by and they realize they meant to call, meant to visit, meant to send the card...

but never did.

So Maybe This Is Our Little Rebellion

Maybe in a world obsessed with faster, easier and more automated...

we become a little inconvenient again.

Invite people over even though the house isn't perfect.

Mail the damn card.

Take cookies to the neighbor.

Bring something when someone says, “Don't bring anything.”

Call your mom.

Write the note.

Sit on the porch.

Make dinner and add another plate.

Buy the gift because you saw it and immediately thought of someone—not because the calendar told you to.

Tell people they matter while they're still here to hear it.

Maybe we don't have to accept that everything has to become colder, faster and more impersonal.

Maybe there are more of us out here missing the way things used to feel.

Not perfect.

Not some Pinterest version of simpler times.

Just...

a little more human.

a little more connected.

a little more thoughtful.

And maybe we start bringing some of that back.

One handwritten note.

One porch visit.

One ridiculous batch of cookies.

One thoughtful gift.

One person at a time.

Pull Up a Chair

If you've been missing that too, pull up a chair.

I think you're going to fit in just fine around here.

I'm really glad you're here.

Back to blog