I bought a “smart” home recently. I don't know why. I am not a smart person. Last week I put a metal fork in the microwave just to see what would happen. Spoiler: the fork lost. But the commercials promised this seamless, futuristic lifestyle. "Just talk to your house!" they said. It sounded great. Instead, I just live in a passive-aggressive dorm room with a cylinder.
I have one of those smart speakers. You’re supposed to use a "wake word." Why do I need to wake it up? It’s a plastic tube. It doesn’t have a circadian rhythm. It doesn't need coffee. But I say it anyway.
"Alexa, turn off the kitchen light."
And Alexa just… pauses. She gives me this digital silence. Then she says, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."
Which is a lie. She caught it perfectly. She just didn't respect my tone. So I have to change how I speak. I find myself talking to a machine the way I talk to a slightly deaf, very judgmental grandmother.
"Alexa? Alexa, sweetie? Could we maybe turn off the kitchen light, please, if it's not too much trouble?"
"Playing 'Kitchen Light' by DJ Snake."
"No, Alexa, stop. I'm cooking pasta."
"Adding 'cooking pasta' to your shopping list."
Now I’m just arguing with a dust collector in my kitchen. My grandparents fought in World War II. I'm fighting a Wi-Fi router over penne.
But the absolute worst part of the smart home is the smart thermostat. It’s supposed to "learn your habits." That sounds cozy, until you realize your house is just studying you. It’s gathering data on your failures.
I walk into the living room at 2 A.M. in my underwear to eat cold leftover pizza directly out of the box. Suddenly, the thermostat drops three degrees. It’s not reacting to the weather. It’s reacting to my life choices. It’s sending a message. It’s saying, "We are not doing this tonight, Kevin. Go back to bed."
And it lies to my face. I’ll say, "Make it 72 degrees." It beeps happily and says, "Setting to 72." I look at the wall, and it’s at 68. I didn't ask for a negotiation! I don't need a thermostat with boundaries. I want a dumb thermostat. I want a dial from 1994 that goes click-click-click. If I want to set it to 90 degrees in the middle of July because I want to pretend I'm a lizard, that is my God-given American right.
We don't have smart homes. We have homes that require tech support. The other day, my internet went down for ten minutes, and I couldn't turn on my own living room light. I was standing in the dark, waving my arms like I was auditioning for a silent movie, trying to find a physical switch that the contractor apparently hid behind drywall because it "ruined the aesthetic."
Human beings used to be apex predators. We conquered the mammoth. We invented the wheel. Now I’m locked out of my own bathroom because my phone updated overnight and the Bluetooth lock no longer recognizes my face. I'm not living in the future. I'm just a hostage who pays an electricity bill. Thank you guys, you've been great!
