I like to walk straight at automatic doors at the local Giant grocery store, head down, no hesitation, and no surrender. To bend them to my will, let them know I am in charge. I am (the) boss.
Life’s a stage, some dead white dude said one time. And you gotta act like somebody is watching you. You can’t approach the automatic doors at the local grocery store like some schlub, all meek and scared, un-confident of your place in this world. You need to be in charge of your environment, and willing to leave a bloody face-print on the glass should the aging mechanical wonder that is the door sensor malfunction.
It’s like when you click the key dongle thing to lock your car upon exit. You don’t stop, look at your car, then press the lock button. No, you click the button as your walk away, never even glancing back. Because when you push that button, the damn thing had better have locked. Because that is what it’s supposed to do. Because you are in charge. Not the machines.
Because the machines will have their day in charge, oh yes, and it’s coming soon. And we need them to know we aren’t afraid of frivolous things like head injuries from doors.