Slow To Change and Proud of It!

THE MAN ON the radio said, “Set your smart speaker to NPR.” Hah. That’ll be the day.

I don’t want Jeff Bezos listening in on my home life, which I assume is how he spends his downtime, along with fantasizing about replacing human workers with robots. I might even get a smart speaker, just to taunt him. “Hey, Alexa, I’m going out shopping now. You know, buying locally. Can I pick up anything for you?” Of course, by not having one of those devices, I can’t spontaneously shout across the room, “Hey [insert name you just forgot], play some Beatles.”

“No, not ‘Hey Jude,’ something more rock. ... You think ‘Eleanor Rigby’ is rock?! Never mind. I’ll get it myself. (I think the CDs are in the basement.)”

I admit that when it comes to using the latest technology, I’m kind of a Luddite, if I’m using that word correctly. I would Google it, but I’m afraid it would launch an artificial intelligence search, using up a megawatt of electricity to get the answer. In fact, because of AI’s excessive pull on the grid, I try to limit my inquiries to only the most important of life’s questions, such as how long it takes a beer to get cold in the freezer.

I’ve always been a slow adapter of new technology, reasoning that other people can pay more for the latest gadget while I cleverly wait until the price comes down. (VHS players are WAY cheaper now, so I’m glad I was patient. Now, on to Blockbuster!)

For years, I didn’t mind that my old television could only broadcast area TV stations and locally produced educational programming, which adhered to the proud tradition of being painfully unwatchable. But I was missing out on popular streaming shows, like Succession, which gave me a headache when I watched on my phone. (Did you know that Succession was based on Rupert Murdoch’s family? I’m probably the only one who picked up on that.) So, I got a new TV, but not before doing extensive research, which revealed it was cheaper to buy a smart TV than to hire a tutor for the old one.

It was cheaper to buy a smart TV than to hire a tutor for the old one.

Donald Trump, whom you might remember from my last column, is similarly reluctant to use new technology—such as spellcheck—preferring to simply yell into his cellphone in the early morning hours. His only real foray into new tech is cryptocurrency, a highly speculative digital money that, according to most economists, works mainly by magic. (That’s why savvy crypto investors balance their risk by carrying a lucky rabbit’s foot. And knocking on wood.)

Speaking of technology, not to brag, but the navigation app on my phone just awarded me another digital medallion for “being an awesome help to drivers.” There’s no cash prize, just the satisfaction of a faceless algorithm acknowledging me for pushing the onscreen button that asks, “Stalled car still on road?” or “Police still there?” (Although, sadly, never “Yard sale 2 miles ahead.”) I’m not just a driver, I’m a good citizen driver, and hopefully my cooperation will be noted up the digital chain to our eventual robot overlords, who would reward me with meaningful work. Like changing their batteries.

But I’m not worried. Fortunately, there are things I’m good at that can’t be replaced by artificial intelligence. I’m a delight at parties, for example, probably the most interesting person in the room. Can AI do that? Can some robot come off as witty and erudite as me, a man in whose presence partygoers roll their eyes in deep respect, pretending to check for the nearest exit, and would otherwise remain in rapt attention but for previous engagements that they just remembered?

I think not.