Thanks for Your Feedback

Now Leave Me the Hell Alone

I’m going to leave all the crazy Trump tariff shit to the pundits this week. The world’s on fire, sure—but sometimes, you’ve gotta pause and focus on the real madness: the endless avalanche of customer satisfaction surveys. I figured it was time to talk about something that truly strikes a chord with all of us. Something universal. Something soul-deadening.

Like your toaster asking for a performance review.

“Hey, what did you think after you took that shit?”

That’s what I’m bracing for next. I bought a bidet recently, and I’m convinced it’s only a matter of time before it asks me to rate my “cleansing experience” on a scale from “meh” to “divine.” Because these days, if you interact with anyone or buy anything—a sandwich, a socket wrench, a goddamn plunger—you can be sure of one thing: a survey is coming.

It’s not enough to just buy the thing. Now I’ve got homework.

“How did we do?” they ask, like I’m their regional manager.

“We’d love your feedback!” No, you wouldn’t.

You want five stars and no notes.

You want me to reassure the algorithm that everything’s fine so your boss in a Patagonia vest doesn’t yell at you in Slack.

You know what happens when I actually have feedback? Crickets. Or worse, a chatbot named “Maya” who suggests I unplug the product and plug it back in. But heaven forbid I buy a pack of gum at the drugstore—by the time I get back to my car, there’s a text waiting:

“How likely are you to recommend us to a friend?”

You sell gum, not spiritual enlightenment. Calm down.

It’s not just retailers. Everybody’s in on it now. I got a survey from my doctor’s office that asked if my “visit met expectations.” I don’t know—my expectations were don’t die? And don’t even get me started on hospitals. Barbara had a minor procedure last year, and before the anesthesia had even worn off, I was getting texts asking how my experience was. Mine? I sat in the lobby next to a guy eating Funyuns at 8:30 a.m. Two stars. Would not recommend.

But the kicker? Funeral homes. I shit you not, a buddy of mine told me he got a “How did we do?” email after his mom’s memorial. “Was the service dignified?” “Was the staff courteous?” “On a scale of one to ten, how likely are you to recommend us to a grieving friend?”

I mean, what are we doing? What’s next—“How was the color of Grandma’s face?” “Did she look fresh?”

She’s dead, Jim. She’s not supposed to look dewy.

Artist’s rendering of the post-funeral survey experience

We’ve reached the point where every transaction, no matter how sacred or mundane, has to be converted into data points. Because that’s what it’s really about: not connection, not improvement, not even customer service. It’s about metrics. KPIs. Somebody in a boardroom wants to know if your hot dog experience was “frictionless.”

Spoiler: it wasn’t. It never is.

And here’s the thing: we’ve been trained to believe that silence equals dissatisfaction. If I don’t leave a glowing review, someone somewhere thinks I hated the experience. But maybe—just maybe—I was content. Satisfied. Moved on with my life. Not everything needs a Yelp page. I shouldn’t have to prove my gratitude for a functioning coffeemaker with a five-minute essay and a smiley face scale.

We used to walk into a store, buy something, say “thank you,” and leave. Now it’s a three-act drama: the purchase, the survey, and the guilt trip when I don’t answer the survey.

It’s like getting a needy follow-up text after a one-night stand:

“Hey, just wondering how I did?”

You were fine. We’re done. Let’s not make this weird.

At some point, we have to stop. We have to reclaim the right to just exist as customers—not beta testers, not data points, not unpaid consultants in the Cult of Engagement. Sometimes a sandwich is just a sandwich. Sometimes Grandma’s funeral is just… a funeral.

And if my bidet ever does pop up and ask how it performed, I’ll give it the review it deserves:

“Five stars. Got the job done. Please don’t contact me again.”

Now, before I let you go… on a scale of 1 to 5, how would you rate this essay?

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🎙️ Paid Subscribers Bonus:

Stick around after the flush. This week’s voiceover is a behind-the-scenes rant about how even I get performance reviews—from my dogs. Spoiler: one of them gave me 3 stars and said “needs improvement in treat delivery.”

Click play below for the full breakdown. No survey required.