I Don’t Want to Talk to Machines
And I’d prefer they stop talking to me.
My wife and I have a long history of talking to the television. She expresses her disgust at the TV during the nightly news when politics is not going our way. I cheer when my favorite sports teams do something well, and moan when they do not. For decades, our television was indifferent to what we had to say.
That’s the way we liked it.
Today the big flat-screen TV in my living room can figure out when I am looking for something to watch. It suggests, over and over, that I press the speaker button on my control and just tell it what I am looking for. I never do. I keep scrolling and hoping. Scrolling is inefficient. I know that, but I don’t want to talk to my TV.
It’s not personal. I like my TV. I just don’t want to talk to machines.
In the kitchen, when I want to add something to my shopping list, I can ask Alexa to do it for me. In my den, I can ask Alexa to turn on the lamp or play my favorite Moby Grape album. But I don’t want to talk to Alexa. I don’t like talking to her. I make my shopping list on a mini-legal pad that fits in my back pocket when I go to the store. When I want to hear Moby Grape, I poke at buttons on my Sonos app.
