Thanks for the Cord, But Where’s the Plug?
At some point, device companies collectively held a meeting and decided:
You don’t need a plug. You’ve already got one.
Do I?
Which one?
Because technically, yes.
Somewhere in my house I own approximately 37 cords and 11 plugs.
But every single one of them is already employed.
There’s the one beside the bed.
The kitchen one.
The one behind the couch that appears to be powering something important, although nobody knows what, so we’re all too scared to touch it.
And then there’s the one Darren has apparently claimed under some form of long-term lease arrangement.
So yes.
I own plugs.
I do not have a plug.
Congratulations on Your New Device. Please Begin the Scavenger Hunt.
You buy something new.
You open the box.
Everything is beautiful.
The device is sitting there looking all shiny and exciting.
Then there’s the cord.
Beautifully rolled.
Perfect little circle.
Tiny sticker holding it together.
Apple-level packaging precision.
Honestly, the cord has never looked better.
You remove the sticker.
Unroll it.
And immediately realise two things.
One, there is no plug.
Two, you will never get that cord back into the shape it arrived in.
Ever.
You could watch 14 YouTube tutorials.
You could have an engineering degree.
You could invite the person who originally packed it over for dinner.
That cord is never going back into that box properly.
But that's tomorrow's problem.
Today's problem is electricity.
So Now We Hunt
You wander around the house looking at every powerpoint like you're conducting an audit.
Can I unplug this?
What's this charging?
Whose is this?
Does this need to be plugged in all the time?
What even is this?
And why is there a cable here that appears to belong to absolutely nothing we currently own?
Eventually, you find one.
Success.
Except you haven't actually found a spare plug.
You've stolen one from something else.
So the new thing charges.
The old thing dies.
Problem solved?
No.
Problem relocated.
And Yet, We Have The Drawer
You know the drawer.
Every house has one.
The Sacred Drawer of Cables.
We have moved house with these cables.
More than once.
Some of them have travelled further than extended members of my family.
Mini USB.
Micro USB.
USB-A.
USB-C.
A random white cable with absolutely no identifying features.
Something that may have belonged to a Nokia in 2004.
We don't know.
But we keep them.
Why?
Because the moment you throw one out, approximately six years later somebody will appear holding an obscure electronic device and say:
“Do we still have that little cord that used to plug into the thing?”
And you will know.
You threw away the thing.
So instead, we keep everything.
Forever.
We Are Preparing for an Electronic Apocalypse
The drawer isn't storage anymore.
It's an archive.
A museum.
A shrine to technology we no longer remember owning.
There are cords in there that haven't seen electricity since Kevin Rudd was Prime Minister.
But will I throw them away?
Absolutely not.
Because what if I need one?
One day.
For something.
Nobody knows what.
And yet, despite maintaining this extraordinarily comprehensive historical collection of charging equipment...
the one bloody plug I need is never in there.
Just Give Me the Plug
I understand what we're doing.
Less waste.
Smaller packaging.
Everyone already owns chargers.
Fine.
Sensible.
Environmentally responsible.
I support the concept.
But somewhere along the way, charging a new device has become a domestic logistics exercise.
Buy device.
Open device.
Admire cord.
Discover plug is missing.
Search house.
Unplug something important.
Forget what you unplugged.
Discover consequences three hours later.
Honestly, at this point I'd just like the box to say:
Congratulations on your purchase. Electricity sold separately.
Thanks for the cord, guys.
Really helpful.
