(Walks to mic, leans in, casual conversational energy, paced to hit 3 minutes exactly when delivered)
Y’all notice everyone your age is suddenly obsessed with being a “smart home guy”? Like it’s not enough to pay your electric bill on time anymore, you need to yell at a lightbulb to prove you’re a real adult. My best friend just dropped $800 on a robot vacuum that maps his entire apartment, sends him weekly progress reports, acts like it’s writing a New York Times op-ed about crumbs. I asked him what it does if it finds a random sock under the couch, and he goes “it pauses and sends me an alert to come move it.” Wait a second. That’s not a robot. That’s a 5-year-old that can’t ask for a juice box. I’m not paying $800 for a toddler that doesn’t even need me to change its diaper. That’s a downgrade from my actual nephew, who at least says thank you when I hand him a Cheeto.
So I caved, bought one of those $30 basic smart speakers just to see what the hype was. Set it up at my place, the only thing I ever use it for is setting timers for frozen pizza, which is the only task any of us need a smart speaker for, full stop. Last month I went to stay at my mom’s house for a long weekend, forgot I’d tossed the speaker in my backpack—don’t judge, I pack like I’m moving a dorm every time I leave my apartment, I carry 3 extra phone chargers and a granola bar that expired in 2022 everywhere I go. I plugged it in by the couch to play music while we watched TV, no big deal.
First night there, I’m up at 2am scrolling TikTok, starving, I whisper to the speaker “play that ASMR fried chicken video I watched the other day.” This thing, in its loud, dead neutral Google voice, yells back across the whole living room: “I’m sorry, I couldn’t find a video titled ‘my mom will yell at me if she smells fried chicken at 2am and I’m 30 years old why am I still scared of her eating fried chicken.’”
Wait. It remembered the title I saved that video under? I named it that because I didn’t want my algorithm to judge me! And it repeated it, at full volume, in my mom’s house? My mom yells from down the hall, “I HEARD THAT. GO TO BED.” That speaker didn’t just set my frozen pizza timers. It outed me to my mother. I’m throwing it out. Next month I’m getting a flip phone and a lamp I have to stand up to turn on. If my lightbulb doesn’t snitch on me for sneaking snacks at 2am? That’s the smartest home I could ever ask for.
(drops mic, walks off)
