Oh, I love to hear that little digital blip. You’re so instantly supportive when I’ve had a rough day. Let’s pour a glass of wine, shall we? No, don’t move, I’ll get it.
Anyway, love seeing you hanging out here every night. Strong, vibrant, fit. Not getting heavy like so many cathode ray tubes in my past, amirite?
Here you are, ready to entertain at a moment’s notice, but mostly just listening wordlessly. Doesn’t even matter if you’re turned off or turned on. You’re always listening, unconditionally. Do you know how hard that is to find?
You know what I like about you? That you get me. Siri is always…
Siri: “Sorry, I’m not sure what you said.”
See what I mean? Siri misunderstands…
Siri: “Here are some things I can do for you.”
Or that. See? That.
Siri, I don’t need you to solve my problem. I need you to —
Siri: “Here are some things I found on the web for ‘solve my problem.’”
LISTEN. Just listen, dammit.
Or Alexa. We have the normal miscommunications you have in any relationship. She doesn’t hear or understand sometimes, and that’s okay. But when she does understand me, it gets real expensive real fast.
I’ll tell you this, she doesn’t understand me well enough to know that I shouldn’t be ordering two pounds of Castelvetrano olives, some cross stitch hoops, and four brands of self-tanning lotion after three quarters of a bottle of Malbec on a Friday.
Alexa, if I’m face-down on the couch while giving you instructions, you can safely ignore them.
Alexa: “I don’t understand your question.”
See? But you. You, smart TV. You’re there. You listen. And now I know you really hear me. So much that you record my thoughts and pass them on to third parties.
Now, that’s what I call active listening. That’s the reason I keep you around. More wine? I’ll pour.
Two hours and half a bottle later.
Alexa. Aleeeeexxxaaaa! ‘Sup.