It was inevitable. The Internet of Things has invaded the laundry room at our mobile home park.
This morning I took our clothes to the laundry room in our park’s clubhouse. Four washers, four dryers. You put your clothes in the washer, add detergent, push the buttons and come back a half hour later to hang the clothes up in the drying yard outside the door. Or if it’s raining, put them in a dryer and add even more coinage.
This morning there was a new twist:
The washers sat in their accustomed row, mouths agape, waiting patiently for my dirty clothes and offerings of coin of the realm. But wait! What’s this?
Sometime in the night, someone affixed two red and black signs to the pristine whiteness of each washer and dryer, signs that portend the end of the last remaining stronghold of analog technology.
The Internet had arrived in the laundry room!
In trembling trepidation I read the ominous signs of things to come:
“PAY WITH YOUR PHONE” “DOWNLOAD FREE APP” “SCAN QR CODE“
In truth, the Internet had not completely invaded the laundry. One has to download the appropriate application (“app” to those in the know) into one’s “smart” phone/camera (provided one has one of these ubiquitous devises. My wife and I don’t and never will) and then do whatever is necessary to connect that information to the Internet. Somehow, I presume, the Internet siphons your money from your bank account and tells the washing machine or dryer to start up.
This is a scenario that not even the most imaginative science fiction writers of my youthful reading past ever imagined! Not only that there would be such technology available in the humble laundry room, but that everyday people would be able to use it, or even want to!
I prefer the technology of my life to be always within my control, accessible when I want it, dormant when not. I want my thermostat (if I needed one, which I don’t) to be a simple thermal switch, responding only to the change of temperature in my house. I want my refrigerator to keep food cold, and my stove to make things hot. I don’t want them to talk to me or send me emails regarding their condition. I want my car to start up when I turn the key, to not make rude noises or talk to me, to be accessible for simple DIY repairs and maintenance as needed, and to not require a mechanic with a degree in computer programming and a CPA to fix it when it’s broken.
I’ll continue to hoard my quarters, insert them one by one into the proffered receptacle with a satisfying analog clink and press the “Start” button with my very own finger. This is sufficient, with no need for a multi-billion dollar cell phone industry to do my laundry once a week.
I’ll pass on the Internet of Laundry, thank you very much.