Reading the Room
During the time in life when I was traveling a lot, my usual routine was to by a new book at the airport and then sign it and date it. It’s just a thing I did. On a recent trip to Georgia, I repeated the pattern. The nice elderly lady at the register told me it was the first book she's sold in the past week.
“Most folks just use their phones,” she said. Shaking my head in agreement, I said, “Thank you, young lady,” and made my way to the gate.
About a year or so ago, Margaret thought she’d put a couple of short stories on Amazon’s Kindle platform; testing the waters to see if there were any nibbles. The Kindle platform – if you’re not familiar with it — allows an individual to browse the website for books and other types of literary works. If something looks of interest, the consumer hits purchase and bingo; it gets loaded onto their handheld device or laptop within seconds.
The author, when they decide to download a piece of work on the platform, names the price. I think Margaret put mine at 99c. Kindle takes their percentage and then gives credits on Amazon for the author to use, or the author can cash in and take the money. I think I've made four or five dollars.
With a little extra time to spare today, I thought I'd figure out exactly what she did, how she did it, and how I could possibly increase sales. While I was doing that research, the “auto response” balloon popped up and said, “Hi, I’m Samuel Wheeler. What can I help you with today?” A small flutter of hope relaxed my anxiety. Navigating the instructions for anything in the technological world has never been easy for me.
I was soon forced to admit that I’ve been conversing with a machine; my hopes for true human interaction were dashed. I wasn’t happy and I told him so. “Sam — May I call you Sam?” I say, “this conversation has been very pleasant, but you're just an artificial intelligence chat bot algorithm thingamajig designed to extort money from me somehow. No offense." "None taken and Sam is fine, Bill," he replied, "but why would you think that?”
"Because time is money and in the corporate world in which you belong, your bosses don’t want you wasting it on the likes of me,” I say.
"I'm sorry you feel that way Bill, but we have a very nice rapport happening here. I think it could be to both our benefits to investigate this further, don't you?" (*Calling someone by their first name too many times in a conversation is creepy.)
In an effort to rattle his gigabytes, I tell him, “Sam, I have tinnitus in both ears, cataracts in both eyes, arthritis in both hands and gout in both feet. My knees and shoulders are about toast and I have acid reflux more often than not." "Perhaps a few thousand words on aging gracefully would find an audience Bill," he suggests.
"But I'm only 23 and my body is shot," I tell him. "Well it sounds as though you've had a really good ride Bill," he says. "A lot of people read about health improvement tips.”
“Uh oh,” I say.
"Is something wrong, Bill? You sound distressed." (*No one ever asks if someone else is distressed.)
“I also have digestive issues and some software is about ready to download,” I tell him. “Have a good day. I need to go, literally.”
"But I haven't told you about the 50% off our promotional package for maximizing your e-commerce potential, Bill. It's a wonderful bargain."
“Uh oh,” I say again.
"Is something wrong, Bill? You sound distressed," repeating himself.
“My output just processed, comprende’?” I tell him.
"No Bill, I'm sorry I do not." "Good-bye, computer generated fake person. (Pause) No offense." "None taken Bill, (Pause) maybe in the future."
