By Shelli Fedullo
One of the most iconic series in television history was a show about nothing. Many of you instantly know what I am talking about, and probably most of you have at least heard of it – Seinfeld. Back in its early days, the show opened with Jerry doing a standup monologue usually beginning with “What’s the deal with…”.
Last week, while walking on Chestnut Street between 18th and 19th, , I encountered something which I would like to tell you prompted me to say, “What’s the deal with that?” Except, what I really said was more in the nature of (ok, exactly like) “What the **** is that?” I would also like to tell you my comment was sotto voce, but not exactly. Shaking her head, a woman nearby explained what the thing was. I would like to tell you the head shaking was acquiesce in my reaction, not because she was thinking “What’s the deal with that lady?” Maybe both.
I just got home from that side of town once again and immediately started to write this. While walking on the same block of Chestnut Street, this time with a companion, I saw a few more. “Seeing” belies the experience. One was strolling /rolling closely behind us, then next to us, then in front of us. Then, another suddenly appeared at the corner of 19th, turned east on Chestnut and stopped. Ours stopped about six feet from the new one and they stared at each other. Were they thinking that the other’s picture on the dating app was way misleading? I turned north on 19th and saw another lounging on the sidewalk. As I walked eastbound home, there were two more near my Washington Square West neighborhood.
I took pictures. One is included. Some of you have probably seen them and know what they do - deliver food orders. I wonder if any of them aspire to move up in the restaurant industry and someday become sous chefs.
My companion for some of the multiple sightings and the folks I shared pictures with cross a range of age demographics – from their early 30’s, and beyond up to, let’s just say my contemporaries. The array of reactions was not age-related. One (just one) thinks them adorable, others described them variously, as weird, funny looking, and bizarre. Someone said the first time they saw one it scared them to death (obviously not literally or else the comment would have been unnerving). Someone else said they inspired a strong desire to knock them over, like cow-tipping. One (semi-serious?) description was that those things are Satanic.
My childhood was in the days of black and white televisions with static and three available channels. As a teenager, I had a manual typewriter that was missing the “w” so I would use the “v” and sort of half backspace the key to add another “v”. My copilot equivalent was a bottle of Wite-Out. However, I am not a luddite, I promise. I love my everyday technology. My relationship with my brilliant phone – it's way more than just smart - is profound, and yes, dependent, albeit one-sided. It constantly tries to escape, hiding from me at home, and once while I was out, it almost made its getaway. It seems to know everything about me, although I never intended to burden it with oversharing. I am very fond of my computer and the many wonderful talents of its software, although I wish it would stop offering to write/rewrite things for me, including this column. Getting a voice remote was life changing. I am also simultaneously fascinated with and terrified by AI and know I am not alone. I am aware that modern civilization is driven by vast, dynamic technologies across multiple industries and disciplines, unimaginable to me and immeasurably beyond my ken.
Back to Seinfeld. Billing aside, Seinfeld was far from being about nothing. It was a paean to the often-comic grandeur of being human, to our exquisite imperfections, complicated/convoluted relationships, to our mundane messes. About our shared humanity. So, to those who may be thinking “What’s the (big) deal with little food delivery robots? Isn’t this (column) about nothing?” here is my response. I think of the nice guy who delivers my takeout from around the corner in downpours or in snow. I think of people who ride around on bikes with delivery baskets, or in cars to bring us our pizzas, or whatever our lunch or dinner orders du jour might be. Actual humans, working in unglamourous jobs to earn a buck. Actual humans who have bills to pay, food to buy, and who sometimes say things like, “Have a good one” when they hand over your order. Sure, occasionally they almost run into you with their bike, but at least they can hear when you shout your very human response. So, when little robots scurry around to replace them, I respectfully submit that it’s not nothing.
Rochelle M. Fedullo is a former chancellor of the Philadelphia Bar Association, co-editor in chief of The Philadelphia Lawyer magazine and of counsel to The Weitz Firm, LLC.
