If you don’t own an Amazon Alexa device yet, you don’t know what you’re missing. That’s an obvious statement, isn’t it? Of course you don’t. You don’t own one.
Or maybe you DO know what you’re missing, and you don’t miss it. Some days I can’t blame you.
We’ve all heard the Tales Beyond the Echo Dot! stories of Alexa laughing maniacally for no reason, or mishearing something you said and asking you to repeat it fourteen times, or ordering twelve dozen packages of Oreo Double-Stufs without your consent. (Okay, in my case, that WAS with my consent, but let’s just skip over that minor detail.)
Some of you purposely don’t own these devices because you’re afraid she’s listening to you 24/7, taking notes on your conversations and reporting them to Homeland Security. (Okay, she IS, but let’s just skip over that minor detail.)
You’re perfectly safe, though. Seriously. Quit laughing. Amazon even has this graphic on the pages of their Echo/Alexa products.
Seriously. Quit laughing.
Here at our house, we currently own five Alexa devices: one tall Echo and four Echo Dots. They’re scattered at strategic points around the house (just don’t ask me why we have one in the bathroom), so she can hear us every time we cough or breathe or think. Wait, no… I mean, so we can get the information we need without having to walk across half the square footage of our large Victorian house. Yeah, that’s what I meant.
Plus, they were on sale.
When you buy one of these smart-alec devices—I mean, smart devices—you envision yourself doing all the cool things they suggest:
“Alexa, what’s the square root of pi?”
“Alexa, translate this phrase from Swahili into Olde English…”
“Alexa, teach me how to install a carburetor in a 1972 Chevette.”
You get the idea. Until the box shows up, you can dream of the things you’ll do together once she arrives…
But then the box shows up.
And reality sets in.
You’re never going to do any of that stuff.
If you’re me, though, you’ll do at least ONE thing: check the weather. I ask about the weather every single day. Sometimes two or three times in the same day. In fact, asking about the weather comprises about 99% of my interaction with Alexa. The irony is that I never go outside. I just want to know what it would be like out there if I did.
Another 1/2% of my interaction is made up of setting alarms (for waking up at ungodly hours) and timers (for cooking food that I just should have given up on long ago).
That last 1/2% of my interaction with dear ol’ Alexa is made of stuff like this:
“What is a bindle?”
“How much is a first-class postage stamp?”
“What’s the humidity?” (Technically, this is a subset of the weather question, but I ask it separately so it counts here.)
“Play notifications.” (These are notifications of packages Amazon delivered three hours earlier and that I’ve already unpacked and started using.)
“Play music on XYZ station.” (This rarely works on the first try because I haven’t enabled the right skill yet or added on the right music app or whatever. I then give up and default to, “Play ‘Weird Al’ Yankovic,” after which she plays the same five or six songs from the 1980s that I know by heart.)
Oops, I forgot that an Amazon Echo is like playing Simon Says. None of those would work because I forgot to put “Alexa” in the beginning. Because, you know, if you don’t, she totally isn’t listening to you.
If you’re new to the Alexa experience, here are some fun things to try:
“Alexa, tell me a Chuck Norris joke.” (This one really works.)
“Alexa, where the heck is my husband?” (Spoiler alert: The answer is, “Home Depot… He’s always at Home Depot. Stop asking.”)
“Alexa, why can’t I lose weight?” (Cue the maniacal laughter I mentioned earlier.)
“Alexa, does this dress make me look fat?” (If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll remain silent. My husband could learn a trick or two from her.)
“Alexa, what should I do for a headache?” (Her answer is usually, “Let me read you a chapter from ‘Brain Surgery for Dummies.’ The Kindle edition is only $2.99. Would you like to order it?”)
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If you’ve been playing along with our home game, you already know that my husband is an electrical engineer. So, he doesn’t give a rat’s patootie about the weather or how much a stamp costs. He uses his Echo Dot to configure (and endlessly reconfigure) our smart-home devices… mainly light bulbs, which he groups into categories with names I can never remember. So, when I want the living room lamp to come on, all I have to do is say: “Alexa, turn on the living room lamp.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t see a device by that name.”
Maybe I got the syntax wrong. “Alexa, turn on the lamp in the living room.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t see a device by that name.”
Maybe I got one word wrong. “Alexa, turn on the living room light.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t see a device…”
“ALEXA, just turn on ANY LAMP IN A 50-FOOT RADIUS OF MY VOICE!”
“I’m sorry, Dave, but…”
“Alexa, I swear, I’m going to throttle Jeff Bezos with my bare hands, smash your little plastic face in with a ball peen hammer, and go buy a Google Assistant!“
Suddenly, every light in the house comes on…
“Alexa, go screw yourself.”
“I’m sorry, but you haven’t enabled that skill yet.”
Hahahaha! Your points are exactly mine. No Alexa here. In a 1000 sq. ft. house, we can use the exercise to go DO STUFF as needed. Less frustration unless what you get up to do or find isn’t where you “think” you left it. Then it’s some more exercise. Winner, winner chicken dinner! 🙂