That evolution of the dowdy old bar code, the QR code, came into its own in the COVIDian era. In the days when the brave or foolhardy donned PPE just to walk in deserted parks, the thought of touching a piece of paper that had been touched by someone else produced in many the Full Howard — a germaphobic freak-out worthy of old 100-take Howard Hughes in his Vegas penthouse period. And so, we all perused virtual menus by taking phone-snaps of QR codes. Did it put a dent in the pandemic? I doubt it. But it was supposed to make us feel safer. Fortune asked, “Will the pandemic finally get Americans to embrace QR codes?”

Let’s hope not. The pandemic may have let restaurants throw out their menus, but I doubt that means QR codes have established themselves as a permanent feature of eating in America. If anything, they carry the taint of the pandemic. Before the plague made their use obligatory, I never used QR codes. Now, I associate them with those grim days. They are a symbol of the shutdown. I am now no more interested in using them than I am eager to don a hazmat suit.