A decade ago, Alexa felt like a glimpse into a Star Trek future. You’d ask for the weather, set a kitchen timer, or play some jazz, and she’d just… do it. It was a clean, utilitarian relationship. We gave her a corner of our kitchen, and in exchange, she gave us a hands-free helper that didn’t talk back unless spoken to.
Fast forward to today, and that sleek “lady in the tube” has been replaced by “Chatty Cathy,” an AI-infused salesperson who won’t stop hovering.
The “By the Way” Bullshit
We are currently living through what author Cory Doctorow calls enshittification. It’s that predictable lifecycle where a platform starts out great for users, then pivots to exploit those users for the sake of advertisers, and finally becomes a hollowed-out shell of its former self to satisfy shareholders.
Alexa is the poster child for this decay. It started with the dreaded “By the way…” * Me: “Alexa, set a timer for 10 minutes.”
Alexa: “Okay, ten minutes starting now. By the way, did you know I can help you order more organic kale chips?”
No, Alexa. I didn’t ask. I’m trying to boil pasta, not enter a multi-turn sales funnel.
AI: The New Layer of Friction
Amazon’s latest pivot involves “Alexa+” … a more “conversational” AI model. While the marketing promises a more “human” experience, the reality feels like a desperate attempt to monetize a division that has reportedly lost billions.
Instead of a snappy response, we now get a digital assistant that wants to “chat.” But this isn’t a chat with a friend; it’s a chat with a kiosk. The goal isn’t to be more helpful; it’s to keep you engaged long enough to serve you a “sponsored recommendation.”
I Just Want My Smart Timer Back
The tragedy of the Echo is that it was actually perfect when it was “dumb.” I don’t need my light switch to have a personality. I don’t need my clock to show me trending news or “Things to Try.”
We’ve reached the point where the cognitive load of ignoring Alexa’s suggestions is higher than the convenience of using her. When a product treats its owner like a captive audience rather than a customer, the “smart” choice is to pull the plug.
I miss the lady in the tube. I miss the beep of a confirmed command that didn’t come with a side of consumerism. Until Amazon realizes that a voice assistant should be a tool—not a solicitor—my Echo is destined for the “electronics recycling” bin.
Think it’s time to switch? I can help you look into more “minimalist” smart home alternatives or show you the current (admittedly buried) settings to toggle off as many “suggestions” as possible. Would you like me to find a guide for that?
