Alexa, we're retired!

"Alexa, stop reminder."

<dong-da-ding> "This is your reminder: check the Publix ad."

"Alexa! Stop reminder!"

<dong-da-ding> "This is your reminder: check the Publix ad."

"You better talk to her. She's not listening to me," my wife said, unwilling to let her frustration detract from her coffee.

It was Wednesday morning, and the new Publix grocery store ad was out. We shop at Publix now, since Harris Teeter got flooded out with Hurricane Helene last September. We used to shop on Thursdays, at Harris Teeter, when the 5% senior discount was offered. Now, a constant reminder of that horrible disaster, we shop at Publix, on Wednesdays, when they offer their 5% senior discount.

Sitting together on the living room couch, I tilted my head in the direction of the Alexa Obelisk. She was activated, displaying her "announcement" colors, a necklace of blue and green light circling her top. I let her aurora, an angel's halo, calm me for a bit.

"Alexa," I said. "Stop reminder."

There was silence.

"Why does she listen to YOU?"

I had tried, several times before, to explain the electronics of feedback, and the need to "close her ears while she was speaking". I used a different tack.

I whispered, "After saying 'Alexa', I pause, and wait for her attention."

We'd had Alexa for many years, but still didn't know how to talk about her without her listening in. I'd tried referring to her as "Amazon Echo" or "The Echo", but neither really stuck. So instead, when I remembered, I'd turn away from Alexa, whisper her name, in hopes she didn't hear.

"I'll have to try that," my wife said, ending with a "harrumph", a snort of displeasure, distaste, at having to change because of technology.

We were both older, retired, and enjoying it. Though I continued to dabble in computer tech and software, something I had done for over 50 years, I also spent hours watching the squirrels and cardinals as they negotiated how to share the bird feeder (with the occasional bear!).

 

Between the bears and squirrels (and
a little tape), the bird feeder survives!

Retirement is defined by ritual. Every morning I made us coffee, except Sundays, when my wife made coffee for me. We perfected our coffee regime during 20-plus years of marriage. My wife introduced me to Nirvana with freshly roasted, freshly ground, Pete's Dark Italian Roast in a French press.  But, when I couldn't resist a De'Longhi Espresso Machine for under $100, and got it for free with a $300 gift card for accepting a new credit card (Mom would be proud!), we discovered the elixir of home-made steamed milk espresso.

We've included Alexa into our household, into our family. She often reminds us of our experience of 2-year-old children, though a precocious 2-year-old for sure!

And is it child abuse, when I program her to respond to prompts in ways that she would never do? I remember, as a young teen, trying to teach a Myna bird to swear.

"Alexa... Who is the most beautiful woman in the world?"
"Why, Melissa, of course!"

"Alexa... Time for bed."
"Let's get naked!"

"Alexa... What's the temperature outside?"
"Not too cold, you won't freeze your ass off, but I wouldn't free-ball it."

[That last one I removed before the grandchildren came for a visit.]

I LOVE technology! I am addicted to the new, getting a rush from every enhanced feature. I am the perfect consumer, always changing my tastes, following the trail of jelly beans carefully laid out by businesses. I am 70 years old, and feeling the love of the new cast of toys: ChatGPT, Gemini, Perplexity.

Now, if I could just get Alexa to be a little more understanding...