An Open Letter to My Smart Appliances

Subtitle: I think I’m becoming an old person

Meet my new stove, the newest contestant in the game of “Smart Appliances vs. Middle Aged People Who Love/Hate Them.” This rant has been brought to you by Amy, who has spent the last few hours getting a stove on the wifi network; adding it to the Google Home party of doorbells, plugs, light bulbs, cameras and appliances; downloading an upgrade; scanning a QR code to register said appliance and to retrieve the owners manual. 

I really just want to cook my taco salad meat.

When I cleaned out my mom’s home, I found that the basement refrigerator, manufactured circa 1978, was still running. THIRTY plus years later. Meanwhile, I’m on dishwasher #2 (and #2 is on its way out), refrigerator #2 (currently awaiting service), and this is the second stove—in the same house that we’ve been in 19 years.

My house is now filled with mostly “smart” appliances that all connect on our Google Home network. I can now change the temperature of my home when I wake up in the middle of the night hotter than hell or freezing to death (both of which can happen in a single night.) I can program it to maintain a schedule and to lower my energy costs. I can make ice super fast while I’m standing in the Dierbergs checkout lane with a 12 pack of Cayman Jack margaritas. I can use my Google Nest camera to see the bastard raccoon in the backyard that is climbing my bird feeder and using my deck as a latrine. I can fall asleep to the sound of crickets and have my 5:00 am alarm set by just saying, “Goodnight Google.” These are the only benefits to my smart home and appliances. Everything else is an unnecessary annoyance. 

The LG refrigerator, when it decides to actually be found on the wifi network, will allow me to enter the expiration date of my milk and other goods, in case I’m too stupid to read the container. 

This process, if I were using it, looks like this: Note exp. date of milk, unlock phone, open app, note that refrigerator is offline, reinstall it, which is a four step process, try again because it never works in the first try, observe a spinning graphic that lets me know that the smart appliance is thinking about the meaning of life, ah-ha!, there it is, enter milk, close app. In the olden days I could open my fridge, read the date on the carton and go about my life and that would be enough. It will also tell me every 6 months when it needs a new filter, for those unfamiliar with how a calendar works. All features that are not necessary but designed to make the product seem more desirable because it is not enough to keep my wine cold, my ice cream frozen and to dispense water and ice.

My dishwasher is super quiet, which is great when you have an open floor plan and need to be watching Ozark in the living room at the same time dinner dishes are being cleaned. This is the only thing it is good for. After a two hour clean cycle, about 75% of the dishes are clean. (WTF? I can hand wash every dish in my kitchen in two hours. And how is this energy efficient? It may be using less water but if it is running for that long, it cannot be energy efficient). Also, you never know what part of the two-hour cycle it is on, so unless you’ve made a mental note about what time it was started, you just wait until the green “clean” light goes on. If you open the door and selfishly take out the one thing you need and leave all the other clean dishes, that green light goes off and it will be a complete mystery to the next person that comes along if the dishes are 75% clean, 100% dirty or some other combination. And don’t get me started on the utensil basket, made of flimsy plastic that has broken and now allows utensils to fall partially through the bottom of the utensil holder and then gets hung up on the door when you try to pull out the bottom basket. Yesterday, a glorious new utensil basket arrived via Amazon. Grateful for small victories.

My washer and dryer are huge and I can wash a comforter without taking it to a dry cleaner. They are also red, and look nice. Yeay! But, right off the bat, I noticed the washer didn’t clean as well as my 20 year old washer it replaced. Most of the time, I’m using the “deep water” option because you need WATER to clean clothes. I’ve actually pulled clothing out of the washer that have dry spots, untouched by the water because of the energy efficient/low amount of water use. The set is 6 years old and naturally the 5 year extended warranty has expired. Five minutes after the extended warranty expired, the lid of the top-loading washer has decided to not stay propped open because a piece of flimsy trim has come loose. So far, it has fallen on my head more than once and whacked me in the face as I’m retrieving my unmentionables from the bottom of the machine. After trying to find a replacement lid online, my husband found it is out of stock/unavailable everywhere. He assures me superglue will not work and I said, “Just fashion a kickstand. I don’t care what it looks like, just fix it!” I now have a bungie cord that keeps the lid open. Cost of this repair: $1.67.  

Also on my shit list: low flow toilets, iPhone chargers, and anything that requires an overpriced subscription that could once be purchased at will. I’m looking at you Adobe. The wording on my tombstone will be something like, “She can now cancel her subscription to Adobe Creative Cloud.” Except tombstones will probably be replaced by “smart” monuments. If that is the case, let’s just have it say, “Amy is content to now be offline.”