FIL and MIL, when they were married, never had a micro. Mr. Rilch once encouraged them to get one. FIL asked us why we had one.
Me: Well, I can boil water in a hurry.
FIL: Don’t need to boil water in a hurry.
Me: I can defrost stuff.
FIL: Don’t need to defrost stuff.
Me: And reheat stuff.
FIL: I don’t reheat anything.
Me: And, not that we do, but some people get those MREs, like Weight Watcher dinners, and you can only heat them in the nuke.
FIL: I don’t eat that stuff.
Me: And I can soften up butter for baking.
FIL: I don’t bake.
Later, Mr. Rilch grumbled, "Yeah, you don’t need a microwave because every meal you’ve had in your life’s been put in fronna you!
MIL and FIL divorced. MIL got a nuke shortly afterwards. FIL’s new wife also has one. FIL still doesn’t cook, though. He’s an Italian who can’t cook. Sad.
Mr. Rilch and I both cook, and we regard the micro as a specialized piece of equipment. The nuke applies heat faster and more evenly, just as the food processor slices and shreds things faster and more cleanly, and the blender mixes liquids far beyond the capabilities of modern (wo)man. I couldn’t make scalloped potatoes without the food processor. Mr. Rilch couldn’t make his protein shakes without the blender. Neither of us could do half of what we do in twice the time if we had to drag out a pan or fire up the oven every time we wanted to soften butter or boil water.
And people who leave meat out to defrost it make me shudder. Even if you don’t forget it’s there, you still shouldn’t give it so much time to pick up bacteria or let existing bacteria come to life.