The thing with technology, especially new technology, is that it rarely lives up to the hype. There are always bugs that need to exterminated.
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Like Mexican food, I love technology but it doesn’t always love me. I wanted to get my wife one of those digital assistants for her birthday. You’ve seen the ads, you say, “OK Google,” or “Hey Alexa,” depending on the device, and a bright, cheery, Mary Poppins voice responds and says, “What can I help you with.”
You might say, “Where can I get Chinese food close by,” and the voice gives you the name of a restaurant, reviews, directions and asks if she (the voice is always female) can make reservations for you.
Or you might even say, “Play my favorite music from the 70s,” and instantly you’re surrounded by the soothing sounds of John Denver or Hall and Oates (you have your favorites, I have mine.)
The thing with technology, especially new technology, is that it rarely lives up to the hype. There are always bugs that need to exterminated.
I grew up right in the middle of what is known as Silicone Valley and still have a few friends that live in the area. So I called an old college friend, Andy Forabuck, who is somehow involved in the tech industry, to get his opinion as to which assistant I should purchase.
“Don’t get either one,” Forabuck vehemently advised me. “I’m working with this startup that has a new digital assistant that is in beta production and I can get you one to try for free. You just need to let us collect the data from your interactions with it so we can tweak and fine-tune the program.”
At my age there are very few things that make me sit up and take notice anymore, but the word free is as close as it gets. Mention free food, free beer, free blood draws or free technology and you have my complete and undivided attention. But I do acknowledge the author Robert Heinlein was probably on to something when he coined the phrase “TANSTAAFL,” there ain’t no such thing as a free lunch.
“What’s the catch,” I asked.
“No catch,” I was assured. “We just need to collect the data from the assistant whenever you and she interact.”
“Well, its for my wife,” I insisted.
“Fine. Whatever. You want to try it or not.”
The package containing my wife’s new beta digital assistant arrived three days later, in a plain brown package with no company logos or descriptions blaring across the box. It simply had our address and a return address in Mountain View, Calif.
I handed the package to my wife and said, “Here, this is for you.” I am what is known as an imbecilic romantic.
“What is it?”
“It’s a digital assistant.”