One day, everything made by humans will be connected to the massive network which will grow out of what we now call The Internet.
Maybe not only the stuff we make. Maybe also some of the stuff that grows. Like, the green stuff outside of your office. Probably not every straw of corn though.
But the trees outside of your office will be calling for water to some city service if it hasn’t been raining for some time. And when they hit a preprogrammed threshold, a dude who doesn’t know what he want’s to be when he grows up, say, Greg, will get a ping on his phone. He will look at his phone, sigh deeply, put down his airguitar and stand up from the couch. Puts on his reflective jacket, showing some wear and tear, walks over to the garage and climbs in the water cart.

Right after he drives off with the cart, that cart will do a self-check and send out a call to Maintenance. It needs a water refill after this round and the battery only has 57% left after it was fully recharged just seconds ago. That needs to be looked at as well.
Greg’s reflective jacket has now been worn for about 1000 hours. Or, actually, it has been in close proximity to Greg’s phone for about a 1000 hrs. Or, better yet, the chip in the jacket has been. The phone sort of “concludes” the “wearing of the jacket” part and pings Supplies that Greg needs a new reflective jacket one of these days. Size 7 1/2. Cause Greg is a 7 1/2. Phone knows. The chip is actually a 8 1/2 chip because a dude in Korea improvised. Because, well, the change in the big reflective jacket order came in just hours AFTER they actually received the new materials. They still had some materials from the previous order and so they made do! Phone checks all the other company clothes he’s been wearing lately to make sure there won’t be any ineffeciency at Supplies when they’re prepping his box.

When Greg’s back from doing his rounds, he picks up the box. No need to sign anything because the counter knows that Greg’s phone is close by and the correct box is presented.
Once the chip in the box is out of proximity of the counter, the box is checked out and informs the phone to now start tracking the proximity of the new jacket.

At home, Greg shoves the box in the garbage can. He knows the truck will sense and report the cardboard in his garbage bags but he doesn’t care about the financial implications. He’s just tired today. Lays down on the soft old couch, catches some shut-eye and dreams of electric sheep.