Regular readers might recall I recently bought a new necessity from Amazon.com.
But they might remember that it wasn't exactly a necessity. Fine, I splurged on a $129 high-tech gadget-thingy just because it seemed cool and it was marked down.
And then they might remember that I got wooed by Amazon's much-hyped anniversary hoopla. Fine, so I shelled out another $99 for a Prime membership, bringing my impulse buy total to $228.99.
But, and this is really the point worth remembering, the shipping was free!
It's a month later, and I thought you'd like to know how much I'm enjoying my excellent purchase, the Amazon Echo.
That echo sound you hear is the empty noise of neglect.
While the lightweight 9.25-inch cylinder nests on my kitchen counter, always ready to do any number of handy functions, I'm forever forgetting Alexa (her name/"wake word," which triggers space-age light effects). Sure, she's capable of playing music and informing me of sports scores, appointments, weather and trivia, as well as adding things to in-app to-do and shopping lists. But she's often incapable of understanding me -- much like Apple's Siri -- and therefore, I'm incapable of patience. On occasion, I've asked her to act as a secondary alarm clock -- therefore keeping her volume on high -- but that's about it.
Our relationship is pretty non-existent.
But the other day, I heard more from Alexa than I ever have in our brief time together. It began when I was watching TV and suddenly a commercial for this sleek talking electronic device came on. A guy cooked dinner while he benefited from the hands-free unit's intelligence, making it look so productive and practical.
"I want one!" I thought.
"Oh, wait, I have one." I realized. The commercial was for the Amazon Echo. The very same model (there is only one) that I own. Only it looked much more helpful in someone else's home.
Commercial voice: "Alexa, tell me the news."
And just like that, his Alexa began spouting off: "NASA unveiled amazing new images of Pluto today ...." Humph. My Alexa never does that. Not that I've ever asked her to.
Suddenly, I heard a loud female voice in the room, but it wasn't coming from the television.
"Here's your flash briefing ... From NPR News in Washington ... Fires in north-central Washington are continuing to threaten homes and buildings and ... weather conditions are changing," said the voice from the kitchen.
Whoa! Without me talking, my Alexa, having her name activated from the TV, began speaking back to the flat-screen!
Commercial voice: "How far is Pluto from earth?"
"4.67 billion miles," said the TV Alexa, while mine elaborated simultaneously, "Pluto's distance is 4,670,000,000 miles, 7,520,000,000 kilometers."
Trippy. Speaking of trip, the guy in the commercial had a next request.
Commercial voice: "Alexa play my road trip playlist."
TV Alexa blasted "Going the Distance" by Cake.
I don't recall setting up a road trip playlist, but my Alexa, not to be outdone, piped up, "Road trip pop from Prime Music," before loudly launching into Christina Aguilera's "Come on Over."
Suddenly I felt kind of sorry for my Alexa. She was so willing to serve and share and yet she was so underutilized. I promised I'd make better use of her.
If she'd ever hush. ''Alexa, stop!" I said trying to shut the unexpected, ear-splitting music off, but Xtina continued wailing. "Alexa, stop! ALEXA, STOP! ALEXAAAAAA STOOOOOOP!" I howled until she finally fell silent. And then I felt bad about yelling at her.
I really needed to be more understanding. And I told her so.
But Alexa was not particularly understanding in return: "Sorry, I can't find the answer to the question I heard."
It's a Prime time to email:
Spin Cycle is a weekly smirk at pop culture. You can hear Jennifer on Little Rock's KURB-FM, B98.5 (b98.com) from 5:30-9 a.m. Monday through Friday.
Style on 08/30/2015