I was talking with friends recently about the trend of outsourcing technology to places like India, and recalled that I had read an article by a bloke who actually outsourced his life. A quick bit of Googling later, and I found out it was an article from Esquire magazine in September last year. (If you click through that link, make sure you've got PithHelmet enabled in Safari, or Ad Blocker in Firefox – the site has some of the most irritating, cover-the-content-with-crap ads ever invented).
The author begins by outsourcing various aspects of his work to an Executive assistant-type woman in India. His first request to to his out-sourced assistant (named Honey):
Honey has completed her first project for me: research on the person Esquire has chosen as the Sexiest Woman Alive. I've been assigned to write a profile of this woman, and I really don't want to have to slog through all the heavy-breathing fan Web sites about her. When I open Honey's file, I have this reaction: America is fucked. There are charts. There are section headers. There is a well-organized breakdown of her pets, measurements, and favorite foods (e.g., swordfish). If all Bangalorians are like Honey, I pity Americans about to graduate college. They're up against a hungry, polite, Excel-proficient Indian army.
The more he pushes, the more these out-sourced people do for him. When he successfully outsources an argument with his wife, I was sold.