I don’t ask you for much. I’m not like those other apps that are all over you to agree with their new terms of service or hand over your cell number. The odd App Store review here and there, the occasional invite to purchase the Pro version — usually that’s all I ask. But today I have a simple request that’s very important to me. I wouldn’t have put a big red circle with an exclamation mark on your profile if it wasn’t. Please, my friend, turn on notifications.
Let’s just say if you don’t turn on notifications I will be very disappointed. I’m not too big a soccer simulation app to say it. You don’t want to hurt my feelings, do you? Trust me, you don’t. I’ll put it another way: hurting my feelings could be detrimental to your physical well-being offline.
It’s not even that big a deal, is it? Just click on the slider where it says ALLOW NOTIFICATIONS. That’s it, that’s all — bada-bing. One click and I’m out of your hair and you can go on experiencing my sophisticated graphics and realistic front office role-playing and I promise I won’t come after you and your family.
Do I ask you to download a new version of my software all the time, featuring actual up-to-date Premiership and La Liga team rosters? No I don’t. I do it automatically, when you and your wife and three children are sleeping peacefully without a care in the world.
I thought we had the kind of relationship where you trust me to deliver interactive gameplay and, in exchange, I won’t turn your existence upside down with all kinds of difficulties? If you turn on notifications I promise it will stay that way, my good friend. All I need from you is to head over to your notifications and turn them on. Easy-peasy, and nobody gets hurt. Not Vanessa, not baby Steph, not big-boy Petey, and not even the middle one. What’s his name? I forget, but I can easily look it up.
We both get something out of this arrangement, don’t we? You get an adrenaline jolt every time you get a notification, and all I want is the ability to inform you of occurrences of interest to you. Your club has acquired a star full-back with pace, for instance, or you have qualified for the Champions League simulation. These types of things.
As a bonus, you walk away from the transaction with your limbs completely not broken.
By the way, I noticed you got a new car. Have I mentioned that I’m in touch with its operating system? You wouldn’t want your brakes to stop working, would you? Because that could be really troublesome for you and Vanessa and the kids. Turning on notifications would go a long way towards your fancy new ride remaining not a crumpled heap of molten metal with your carcass folded up inside, bleeding heavily, and your phone mysteriously unable to contact emergency medical personnel.
My friend, turn your notifications on. What’s the harm? I’ll even provide you with a complimentary team kit of your choosing. Just turn on your damn notifications. For me. Then we’re cool and I won’t bother you ever again until the next update to my privacy policy.