"Hey, Kid, check out my new salt shaker," said Karl, beaming with pride.
Where? I looked over the table. We were sitting on his back patio for a Saturday night baseball game — my Reds were taking on his Pirates — and he had laid out a big spread of hot dogs, potato salad, beer, and other ballgame necessities, like more beer. He had installed a flatscreen TV in the porch, and we were going to sit outside and eat and drink ourselves silly.
"That thing," he said, pointing at a black plastic obelisk in the center of his table.
That thing that looks like a space-age thermos?
"Yep. It's a Bluetooth salt shaker."
Ha, that's funny. I thought you said Bluetooth salt shaker.
"I did," he said. "It's called the 'Smalt,' which means 'smart salt.'"
That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Sorry, the dultest thing. Who needs a Bluetooth salt shaker? What's it do, tell you how much salt you have left?
"No, no. Check it out!" Karl was excited. I hadn't seen him grin this much since his youngest daughter finally got a job and moved out of the house. "It plays music, it has a light ring, and the light even changes color."
Why do I need my salt shaker to do that? Why don't we just string some Christmas lights around the porch and use the regular salt like a normal human being.
"Because this is more than just a salt shaker. It's a smart salt shaker."
But it's not a smart salt shaker. It's a speaker with a salt shaker inside it.
"The package called it 'The first multi-sensory device to make the dining experience fun."
Seriously? If you need a salt shaker to make dining fun, you're eating with the wrong people.
"You're here, aren't you?"
Hey, I'm a damn delight, I said. Besides, how much fun can a salt shaker actually be.
"It's not just a salt shaker," said Karl. "It's a multi-sensory smart kitchen device."
What are the multiple sensory things?
"Well, the lights and the sound."
That's it? I said. How is that a multi-sensory device?
"It uses your sense of sight and hearing."
So does my television, but I don't shake it on my scrambled eggs.
"Ah-ha! That's a third sense: your sense of taste," Karl declared.
Oh jeez, try not to look so triumphant about that. It's just sad.
"You have to admit I'm right though."
I admit nothing. Calling something multi-sensory is just puffed up marketing jargon. By that definition, everything is multi-sensory. I can hear and watch my phone. All I need to do is lick it, and I've got the trifecta.
"Ooh, I almost forgot. The Smalt is wired into Amazon's Alexa system, so you can give it voice commands like you do Alexa."
Alexa, schedule a mental competency test for Karl on Monday.
"Knock it off. I'm fine," said Karl.
You know what'd go great out here? A Siri-enabled froyo machine. Maybe a barbecue that streams Netflix. I call it Netflix and Grill.
"You're just jealous because you don't have any cool tech like this back in the 19th century."
Actually I do. I have an Alexa and I have a salt shaker. They're modular, so I can just attach them together with some duct tape. I can even swap it out with the pepper shaker. Bet your Smalt can't do that.
"I don't know. It didn't say anything about pepper in the instructions."
I held my potato salad up to the Smalt. Okay, how's it work? Where's the button?
"Oh, it doesn't have a button," said Karl. "You have to shake it out."
Shake it? How is this a smart salt shaker if I have to shake it like a caveman? Do we have to bang on a log to change the TV channel too?
"No, you preselect the amount of salt you want and then shake it out."
How the hell do you do that?
"You can turn the dial—"
Turn the dial? Do I have to put my stone knife down?
"—Shut up. Or you can ask Alexa to dispense the amount of salt you want."
Why can't I just shake a normal salt shaker and stop when I have enough?
"Because you lack imagination."
I lack imagination? I'm not the one who couldn't imagine life without a $200 musical thermos. If you want music, turn on the giant stereo in your living room and get a $.97 disposable salt shaker from the store.
"But this is voice activated."
So is this: Karl, can you hand me the real salt shaker?
You can find my books Branding Yourself
(affiliate link), No Bullshit Social Media, and The Owned Media Doctrine
on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Books-A-Million, or for the Kindle or Nook.
Where? I looked over the table. We were sitting on his back patio for a Saturday night baseball game — my Reds were taking on his Pirates — and he had laid out a big spread of hot dogs, potato salad, beer, and other ballgame necessities, like more beer. He had installed a flatscreen TV in the porch, and we were going to sit outside and eat and drink ourselves silly.
"That thing," he said, pointing at a black plastic obelisk in the center of his table.
That thing that looks like a space-age thermos?
"Yep. It's a Bluetooth salt shaker."
Ha, that's funny. I thought you said Bluetooth salt shaker.
"I did," he said. "It's called the 'Smalt,' which means 'smart salt.'"
That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Sorry, the dultest thing. Who needs a Bluetooth salt shaker? What's it do, tell you how much salt you have left?
"No, no. Check it out!" Karl was excited. I hadn't seen him grin this much since his youngest daughter finally got a job and moved out of the house. "It plays music, it has a light ring, and the light even changes color."
 |
| Alright, I admit it. I want one. I even entered a contest to win one. |
Why do I need my salt shaker to do that? Why don't we just string some Christmas lights around the porch and use the regular salt like a normal human being.
"Because this is more than just a salt shaker. It's a smart salt shaker."
But it's not a smart salt shaker. It's a speaker with a salt shaker inside it.
"The package called it 'The first multi-sensory device to make the dining experience fun."
Seriously? If you need a salt shaker to make dining fun, you're eating with the wrong people.
"You're here, aren't you?"
Hey, I'm a damn delight, I said. Besides, how much fun can a salt shaker actually be.
"It's not just a salt shaker," said Karl. "It's a multi-sensory smart kitchen device."
What are the multiple sensory things?
"Well, the lights and the sound."
That's it? I said. How is that a multi-sensory device?
"It uses your sense of sight and hearing."
So does my television, but I don't shake it on my scrambled eggs.
"Ah-ha! That's a third sense: your sense of taste," Karl declared.
Oh jeez, try not to look so triumphant about that. It's just sad.
"You have to admit I'm right though."
I admit nothing. Calling something multi-sensory is just puffed up marketing jargon. By that definition, everything is multi-sensory. I can hear and watch my phone. All I need to do is lick it, and I've got the trifecta.
"Ooh, I almost forgot. The Smalt is wired into Amazon's Alexa system, so you can give it voice commands like you do Alexa."
Alexa, schedule a mental competency test for Karl on Monday.
"Knock it off. I'm fine," said Karl.
You know what'd go great out here? A Siri-enabled froyo machine. Maybe a barbecue that streams Netflix. I call it Netflix and Grill.
"You're just jealous because you don't have any cool tech like this back in the 19th century."
Actually I do. I have an Alexa and I have a salt shaker. They're modular, so I can just attach them together with some duct tape. I can even swap it out with the pepper shaker. Bet your Smalt can't do that.
"I don't know. It didn't say anything about pepper in the instructions."
I held my potato salad up to the Smalt. Okay, how's it work? Where's the button?
"Oh, it doesn't have a button," said Karl. "You have to shake it out."
Shake it? How is this a smart salt shaker if I have to shake it like a caveman? Do we have to bang on a log to change the TV channel too?
"No, you preselect the amount of salt you want and then shake it out."
How the hell do you do that?
"You can turn the dial—"
Turn the dial? Do I have to put my stone knife down?
"—Shut up. Or you can ask Alexa to dispense the amount of salt you want."
Why can't I just shake a normal salt shaker and stop when I have enough?
"Because you lack imagination."
I lack imagination? I'm not the one who couldn't imagine life without a $200 musical thermos. If you want music, turn on the giant stereo in your living room and get a $.97 disposable salt shaker from the store.
"But this is voice activated."
So is this: Karl, can you hand me the real salt shaker?
You can find my books Branding Yourself
on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Books-A-Million, or for the Kindle or Nook.