Harriet and Stanley were in their late 80s and had just moved into a new home that their tech-savvy grandson convinced them to make “smart.”
“Everything’s voice-activated now,” the grandson said proudly, clapping his hands. “Lights, thermostat, TV, even the fridge tells you when you’re out of milk!”
Harriet squinted suspiciously. “Does it tell you when the milk has turned? Because your grandfather has been drinking expired milk since 1972 and says it ‘builds character.’”
Stanley shrugged. “Hasn’t k.i.ll3d me yet. Probably the reason I’m still kicking.”
So one evening, Harriet tried using the voice commands.
She stood in the middle of the living room and said loudly, “Turn on the lights!”
Nothing.
She tried again. “TURN ON THE LIGHTS!”
Still nothing.
Sitting in his recliner, Stanley said, “You have to say ‘Hey Smart Home’ first, remember?”
So Harriet raised her voice, “HEY SMART HOME, TURN ON THE LIGHTS!”
The microwave beeped. The lights stayed off. And the thermostat dropped to 60 degrees.
Stanley grumbled, “Well now it thinks we’re going into hibernation.”
The next day, Harriet tried to play music. “Hey Smart Home, play some Frank Sinatra.”