From Sensitivity to Connectivity: The Human Cost of Convenience

“Thank you. Would you like some water?”

A simple question that brought a wide smile to the e-commerce delivery worker standing at my door. As they drank the water, I realized it wasn’t the first time I’d seen such relief from a small gesture. It made me wonder — why does a basic act of compassion evoke such a profound response today?

It reminded me of something I’d read in How to Do Nothing by Jenny Odell, where she references Italian philosopher Franco “Bifo” Berardi. In his book After the Future, Berardi theorizes that the digital revolution has shifted human interaction from a mode of sensitivity — marked by presence, emotion, and attunement — to a mode of connectivity, where relationships are mediated by data, ratings, and algorithmic exchanges.

You can see this shift play out in something as ordinary as customer service. When we face a problem or a query, most of us instinctively want to speak to a person — someone who can sense frustration, interpret tone, and offer understanding. Instead, we’re greeted by chatbots that respond flawlessly yet feel hollow. They may resolve issues faster, but they strip the interaction of the one thing that makes it humane: empathy.

This is not just a matter of preference. A recent Economic Times article (“Customer Service Shouldn’t Be Left to AI Agents,” October 1, 2025) cited research by Conduent showing that over 40% of consumers still prefer human interaction when resolving issues. Beyond efficiency, human contact allows for nuance — it can turn frustration into loyalty when the experience feels seen and understood.

Nowhere is Berardi’s theory more visible than in the rise of e-commerce and gig work, where human touch has been replaced by efficiency metrics and delivery times. The convenience these platforms offer is extraordinary, but the experience is “frictionless” only because the friction has been outsourced — to someone else.

Friction, in this context, refers to the effort we once invested to obtain what we needed: walking to the store, waiting in line, engaging in small acts of exchange and conversation. Today, that effort — and the risks that come with it — have been transferred to the gig worker.

Gig workers live in a paradox. The system was built on the promise of freedom and flexibility but offers little real choice. Each day presents a Hobson’s choice: accept poor working conditions to survive, or refuse and fall further behind. Many push through physical exhaustion and mental stress to meet daily quotas or earn small performance incentives, all while being denied health or social benefits — because, legally, they are “independent contractors.”

Picture a delivery worker, soaked in rain, waiting outside an apartment gate, hoping for a 5-star rating that determines their pay bonus. Some are barred from using elevators, penalized for minor delays, or subjected to verbal abuse — all while being treated as invisible. In our pursuit of convenience, have we begun to treat humans as mere extensions of the systems that serve us — measurable, replaceable, and rated?

What’s even more telling is that platforms now remind customers to thank their delivery partners or offer them a glass of water. The fact that such basic gestures need explicit prompting reveals how far we’ve drifted from natural empathy. When the most fundamental courtesies require corporate reminders, it says less about technology and more about us.

What began as technological progress has slowly exposed a moral asymmetry — between those who consume and those who serve, between those whose experiences are optimized and those whose humanity is systemically ignored. And while e-commerce and quick-commerce have become inseparable from modern life, it is all the more crucial that we remember Berardi’s warning: when societies prioritize connectivity over sensitivity, they stop listening — they merely react.

If sensitivity once defined our humanity, connectivity now defines our utility. Unless we learn to bring compassion back into our daily exchanges — to listen, not just transact — we risk building a world that can deliver anything except empathy.