Tivo makes me nostalgic, but I've moved on...

Dear Tivo,

What happened to us? We were inseparable. It was just you, me, and cable TV. Life was good. Really good. In fact, I couldn't imagine life without you, even when DIRECTV and Comcast starting offering their own DVRs as a standard part of their cable services.

I like to think I was Olive Oyl and you were my Popeye, and the cable companies were Bluto, always trying to force their way in-between us and undermine you with an eye toward my affection. But it didn't happen, and still doesn't, even as your peanut-shaped remote just lies there on my coffee table, lifeless.

Oh, your remote! The buttons felt so right. They responded so well to the touch, not like the others, which took a few muscled depressions before it finally responded, and then responded again and again, the signals finally catching up and me so far adrift from my target. I was afraid to use the other remotes. But never yours.

And the little TV with the antenna and legs. He gave the whole thing personality. I hated the times the machine needed to reboot, but look over there! That little guy is having so much fun sliding and swinging around!

That was my last encounter with you. Something happened. Months ago–I lost count–you overheated and conked out. It was sudden, and I mourned for you.

But I didn't do anything about it. I didn't fix you. I didn't replace you. I just carried on.

Frankly, TV WAS better with you. Unfortunately, it's no longer better enough to warrant the work needed to troubleshoot you and rescue the 70+ episodes of Dora the Explorer I so obsessively recorded for my kids. They're on to Hanna Montana, now.

And me? Well, I guess I'll watch North by Northwest some other time. Same with those other movies I collected over the years but never got around to playing.

Perhaps I'm in recovery. All the hours of TV I watched and wanted to watch and didn't know I needed to watch. You made me voracious for TV, but I could never keep up.

You enabled me. I explored Steve McQueen and wishlisted Anthony Wong. I felt confident that I wasn't missing anything, even if I never watched most of it.

I suppose the missing piece in our broken relationship is TV. I don't watch that much of it anymore. I've moved on to Hulu. It doesn't have everything, but it has enough to keep me satisfied. There's no queue, no pile-up of movies and TV episodes to dig through. I just graze and go.

Today the New York Times said that you posted another quarterly loss. It makes me sad because I loved you. I still love you. But I think for many of us, it's simply time to move on.

-joanie

Kodak wants to delete my photos

Dear Kodak,

Your emails sadden me. I just got another warning that you're going to delete my photos (of my kids, no less) from your online sharing site if I don't spend $19.99. Nothing personal. It's just how your "storage policy" works.

But before I revisit your emails and become thoroughly enraged, let me make the following disclaimer: I use to work at Kodak. I designed their online photo sharing service Ofoto, later renamed "Kodak EasyShare Gallery," and now simply "Kodak Gallery." The offensive "storage policy" had just been implemented when I left the company in  2005. It sounded stupid then, and now that I'm on the receiving end, I can tell you with certainty that it truly is stupid.

Okay, back to my rage...

A number of things struck me with this third email threatening to not only delete my photos but destroy the equity that the Kodak name has earned over the last century. 

One, you're insisting that you mean it, that you're in control. After all, it's your "storage policy." Yet the email is written in a way that suggests I'm in fact the one to blame because I haven't purchased anything within a 12 month period. It's like you're saying "Stop punching yourself." I resent that. It's not up to me, Kodak. It's your shortsighted policy that makes you push that delete button. I'm not punching me. You're punching me. Let's be clear about that.

Two, stop being passive aggressive. If you threaten to delete my photos, then stop writing things like, "We think your photos are important." If you want to be heavy handed, then at least have the backbone to be accountable. It would give you a modicum of integrity.

Three, as a customer, I have lapsed. But unlike other retailers, you have something of worth: my photos. Although you see them as a means for extortion, they are in  fact an invaluable link to me. It's the reason you can email me in such a directed and relevant way. How about using that link in a positive fashion, like telling me about new products and services that might lure me back? How about you "surprise and delight" rather than "delete and burn." 

Four, if you think we still have a relationship because you have my email address, think again. There's no way you're sending me nasty emails wrapped in fake concern and then deleting my photos only to send me marketing spam because I once opted in. You'd better know I'm not only opting out, I'm turning my back on you for good. Why would I want to repeat this noxious encounter? I won't upload any more photos, let alone trust you with anything I care about.

Five, your policy is not a "storage policy"; it's a retention policy. As a company, you may see storage as a looming problem, but guess what? As Google, Amazon, and others have shown, storage costs are dropping. Marketing and acquisition costs are not. There is no reason that your internal storage concerns need to be translated into a customer-facing storage policy. By doing so, you not only set yourself up to be a bad guy, but you frame your value around storage. Suddenly, I don't think about the quality of your products (which is where you excel), but that I can get 2.4gb of storage much, much cheaper elsewhere, so delete away! For a company like Kodak, a "storage policy" is a losing proposition.

By the way, Flickr has the same problem, if not worse. With no products of its own, Flickr really only has storage to sell. Do they call it storage? Nope. It's a pro account, and you feel like you're getting more. I happily give them $24.95/year without a second thought. 

It seems to me that you have bad leadership. It's one thing to associate yourself with deleting photos. That's bad. But the fact is, given your market, you're deleting a lot of photos of kids. That's worse. The way GM Victor Cho talks about it is just plain flippant. ("I recently received some strong responses from Gallery customers after we asked them to make a small purchase in order to continue enjoying photo storage benefits...I want to assure you that I take our customers’ feedback very seriously...[BUT] At the Gallery, we believe in choice—including your right to unlimited access to your photos—and fairness: the benefits of photo storage enjoyed by all come at a cost that should be shared by all...")

Wow. I guess in your mind I'm a parasite. I thought I just wasn't buying photo mugs because I didn't want or need one. Turns out you don't think I believe in "fairness." Nice way to insult me.

Well, Kodak, like you, I believe in choice. So please go right ahead and delete my photos. Even this one that you use to promote your service, featuring my daughter Luxi in a hat that I crocheted myself. This is a great memory with lovely associations that will live on despite your policy.

-joanie