I Love Humans

Systems don’t always work. What you need are humans, faith in each other, and a place to put notes.

I recently begen volunteering at a local organization that acts as a permanent mailing address for thousands of people - a critical service that allows people to receive important documents for identification, employment, benefits, and more. How do you manage hundreds of incoming letters/packages a day for thousands of mailboxes? Surely each letter gets scanned and indexed in a database for easy retrieval, and peple can scan their IDs to check for new mail.

Of course not. No mail is scanined in, there’s nothing digital - the whole system runs on alphabetized folders (the “mailboxes”) in a wall of filing cabinets. On my first day I had the immediate nerd reaction of “wow these people could use a database - I should build them something”. We’ve all been there. But while working as both a mail sorter and as a “public facing” person handing people their mail, I’ve realized the brilliance of the system.

There is a core team of people who are almost always there, but during the rush when clients come to collect their mail they rely on volunteers. If you had a digital system you’d need to have an ipad/kiosk/terminal for every volunteer, train them on it, and worry about damage/theft. That’s not remotely feasible for an understaffed nonprofit charity. And even if you could have all that (plus someone to build/maintain the system) it still wouldn’t work as needed.

Remember how this is a service for people to receive important documents? How do you ensure that only authorized users are granted access to these important documents, especially when a govermnent ID is coming via that same channel? Each “mailbox” is someone’s full name and a 4 digit mailbox code. That code is their birthday month/day, and serves as both a discriminator for people with the same name, and as a form of security. You’re right that this is all public information, so for this basic system the only “security” is trust that someone won’t lie.

Understandably, many people want more security. And since each mailbox is a physical folder, there’s the chance to add a human element - flexibility. Want a password? Sure, we can just write “pasword: bug and bean, hint: what do you call your kids”. Do you have an ID and want to use it? Sure, we can add a note “must show ID” and ensure the ID name and birthday matches the mailbox info. I even saw a folder with a call-and-response like you’re a spy meeting another in public. The notes added to the folder are a message to the volunteer in the future, with trust that they’ll read and interpret the extra notes accordingly. Aside from security, we even use this to allow authorized mail pickup from other people.

Every system requires a comment field for the human element - something that can’t be planned for but is essential for smooth operation. The real world scoffs at your databsae column list. In this case the comment field was the folder itself, but often it takes the form of a sticky note. Want to add context to a physical object? Sticky note. Want to communicate something about the real world? Sticky note. That’s what drove me to write this in the first place - a sticky note on my mug at a cafe.

I spend a lot of time at cafes - I’d much rather work around people than alone in my apartment. One cafe I frequent has an option for a bottomless coffee - perfect for someone who wants a supply of hot drinks while working in the corner. Unfortunately when I’m focused on work I’ll go for a sip and discover a cold mug, forcing me to drink the rest before asking for a hot refill. So one day I brought in my own travel mug to keep the coffee warm during bouts of productivity, and poked a hole in the cafe’s internal system.

I asked for a bottomless coffee, paid, and handed them my travel mug. Evidently they keep track of bottomless coffee with special cups, and this “system” couldn’t handle my simple request. The barista knew the policy, and couldn’t reckon it wiht my request, so deployed the humble sticky note. On that note they wrote “Bottomless” with their initials, stuck it on my mug, and assured me that it was fine. A new barista was at the counter when I went up for a refill, and I offered up my mug, note side facing them. This is clearly not a standard, but they read the note and filled my cup anyway.

I love humans and their ability to work outside the system, in the marginalia. Sure, a machine could read the note, use an LLM to determine the meaning, and understand. Semantically. But I think it’s truly a human thing to understand the limiations of the system and adapt to that, trusting the next person to read the note and understand the same.

Here’s to humans and the humble sticky note. Long live the imperfect system and the free text comment field.