Some of you out there complain every time a restaurant has a QR code where its menu used to be. I won’t argue that this has altered the dining experience wholly for the better, but it has changed the way I see the world. I am dreaming of QR codes, seeing them where they don’t belong and can never be. My hope is that this is the beginning of a beautiful, clickable revolution.
I wish elementary school teachers gave out grades using a unique QR code plastered on each student’s locker, or, better yet, their foreheads.
I wish every ad was a QR code, so you didn’t have to see any of them to while riding public transportation.
Pets should have them on their backs in the same place you usually squirt tick repellent. There might be some discounts under all that fur.
I want QR codes on shower drains, on lily pads, inside elevator shafts, within abandoned subway tunnels, on bald heads, under bed spreads, on birdhouses, atop telephone poles, and at the center of the earth.
Honestly, I think we’re not too far from strippers positioning one right above their navel. I might be wrong, but I’m guessing they already have bustling Venmo accounts. Thankfully, the days of taking out two hundred dollars in singles from an ATM are a thing of the past.
Look, I know what you’re thinking. What about my friend who has a Charlton Heston like grip on his flip phone? What is he supposed to do in these situations? Simple: adapt. A QR code is like any other set of beliefs. Think of it as a modern version of Bushido, the guiding tenets of the honorable samurai. Only instead of moral principles, it helps you figure out the soup specials and how much extra adding caramelized onions to your burger will cost.
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