Downbeat: We Bought Something “Smart.” Now It Judges Us
A gentle salute to the humble knob, the quiet appliance, and the modern machine that thinks it’s our life coach.
We brought home a “smart” device the other day because apparently we were running low on humility.
It promised convenience, efficiency, and a smoother modern life. That should have been my first warning. Anything that promises to make life smoother usually begins by asking for my Wi-Fi password, my email address, and permission to update itself at 2:14 in the morning.
This particular device looked innocent enough sitting on the counter.
Sleek.
Quiet.
Smarter than necessary.
The box said it would learn our habits. I did not realize this meant it would start forming opinions about us.
The first few days were promising. It beeped politely. It blinked in soothing colors. It gave off the general impression of something that had gone to college and was trying not to mention it.
Then the judgment began.
If we opened it too soon, it beeped.
If we waited too long, it beeped.
If we pushed the wrong button, it flashed like we had disappointed not only the machine, but several generations of engineers.
I miss the days when appliances had one job and performed it quietly. The toaster toasted. The coffee maker made coffee. The refrigerator kept food cold and occasionally held a child’s drawing with a magnet shaped like Florida.
Nobody asked the dishwasher how I was feeling.
Now everything has a screen, a tone, a setting, and a little light that means either “ready” or “you have failed me again.” The manual explains all this in six languages and none of them are retired guy.
At one point, I stood in the kitchen holding the instruction booklet while the device blinked at me like a supervisor waiting for a quarterly report.
My wife asked, “What does it want?”
I said, “Respect, apparently.”
That is the trouble with smart things. They do not just help. They participate.
A regular machine waits for you. A smart machine enters the relationship.
It remembers things. It suggests things. It sends notifications. It develops preferences. Before long, you are not using it so much as trying to maintain a healthy emotional distance.
I know progress is good. I like convenience. I am not trying to churn butter on the porch or send letters by horse.
But there is something to be said for a knob.
A knob does not update. A knob does not need an app. A knob does not look at you with a blinking blue light because you failed to pair it correctly.
A knob turns left or right, and we all move on with our lives.
Retirement has taught me that simple is not the same as outdated. Sometimes simple is just peaceful. Sometimes the best technology is the kind that does not require a password, a firmware update, or a small apology.
We will probably keep the smart device. It does do what it promised, once it gets done correcting us.
But every now and then, I look at the old coffee maker with renewed affection.
It may not be smart.
But it knows when to keep quiet.
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If you’re new: Like = applause. Restack = share it with the room.
Steady on,
Bill Black
Porch Caretaker, Humble Observer
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Dang! Your writing makes me laugh! I can’t thank you enough!! As for smart anything, I look for simple and dumb every time. Much less to go wrong. Give me mechanical controls over electronic talking ones whenever possible. Lol.
Bill, you are a genius of the understated. Quiet, unassuming, cunning, clever and down right spot on. I salute you humble knob.