Electric Boogaloo

For most of us, dealing with utilities or large corporations is straightforward, if a bit impersonal: pay your bills down to the last cent. If you don’t, the service gets cut, and the company will cheerfully chase you down for the balance – sometimes spending more than the bill itself to recover it.

This process makes sense. It simply isn’t feasible to manually handle every transaction or customer inquiry when a company serves thousands, or even millions. That’s where computers come in. Before automation, this was handled by rooms full of employees – highly trained, efficiently robotic humans who functioned as an analog computer. Either way, there’s no time for deliberation – only execution of policy.

The downside is obvious: when a human touch is needed, it can be frustratingly absent. We’ve all endured the endless menu loops, disinterested call center scripts, and bureaucratic black holes. Yet, we deal with it. Why? Because we expect to take responsibility for our own accounts, and we understand that if we don’t advocate for ourselves, no one else will.

Pompeii Estates of Bayside, New York, evidently sees things differently. In Pompeii Estates, Inc. v. Consolidated Edison Co. of N.Y., Inc., Pompeii sued the utility for “wrongful termination” of electrical service, claiming roughly $1,000 in property damage.
(Grimmelmann, J. (n.d.). Internet Law: Cases and Problems.)

Pompeii’s core argument was that notices of nonpayment were sent to the property itself, not to their business office – and as such, they were unaware of the issue. The court ruled in Pompeii’s favor, finding Consolidated Edison negligent for terminating service without proper notice.

I would argue the opposite – not only should Consolidated Edison have prevailed, but it may have had cause to counter-sue to recover costs and court fees.

Let’s consider a few facts:

  • Negligence is defined as a failure to exercise reasonable care – what a prudent person would do under similar circumstances.

  • The court ruled that by relying on computer-automated processes, Consolidated Edison failed to meet this standard.

While the computer is a useful instrument, it cannot serve as a shield to relieve Consolidated Edison of its obligation to exercise reasonable care when terminating service.”

That raises a question: Is it not also negligent to ignore your own bills? Is it not the very definition of carelessness to assume that, because a bill wasn’t received at your preferred location, no action is required? A prudent property owner should be aware of their own expenses. There’s no evidence that Pompeii made any effort to ensure those expenses were tracked or that notices – misdirected or not – were followed up on.

The court appeared to place all responsibility on the utility, stating that a human element was required to catch the failure. Yet in practical terms, any human – given the same information – would likely have made the same decision. If a bill goes unpaid for two months, and no response follows a termination notice, the only reasonable course of action is termination.

The court even stated:

Certainly, any reasonably prudent person, if in doubt, would contact Mr. Vebeliunas to ascertain the facts.”
This is especially so when the termination of service is in the middle of winter and the foreseeable consequences to the heating system and the water pipes are apparent. Where there is a foreseeability of damage to another that may occur from one’s acts, there arises a duty to use care.”

Let’s break that down. The ruling suggests that anyoneeven someone without ownership interest – should have foreseen the risk and acted. Yet somehow, the owner of the property is exempt from this expectation? If that’s the standard, we’re no longer dealing with a duty of care – we’re assigning blame based on who has the deeper pockets.

To be fair, perhaps we don’t have the whole picture. Maybe there were additional facts not captured in the case summary. Maybe the ruling was overturned on appeal. But based on the available documentation, this decision seems to reward the kind of passive negligence that, for the rest of us, would be laughed out of court.

What’s so smart about a House?

Smart houses are no longer approaching – they’ve already arrived. Voice activation has reached a critical user base, and many household devices are now “smart,” though not always in the way one expects when hearing the phrase smart home. Game consoles like Xbox and PlayStation, for example, double as media hubs, yet offer little in terms of real household value beyond games and streaming.

More impressive are the appliances that go beyond entertainment. Coffee makers now respond to voice commands through a central hub. Toasters remember your preferred shade of crispness. Convection ovens monitor not only heat and time, but also “smell” ingredients using advanced chemo-sensory tools. These innovations promise to liberate humans from mundane kitchen tasks – to free us up for whatever it is humans are still supposed to be doing.

Each of these devices shares a common weakness tied to connectivity: privacy. Concerns once centered on hackers stealing passwords. That threat still exists, but a deeper, more structural problem has emerged – one designed into the devices themselves. Data mining, targeted advertising, and bandwidth drain have become routine. Despite all this digital creepiness, the bigger issue might be more basic. Many of these devices simply fail to make life easier. At least, that’s the argument made by journalist Kashmir Hill:

“I’m going to warn you against a smart home because living in it is annoying as hell.” (Hill, 2018)

Full respect to Ms. Hill, though I couldn’t disagree more. I once shared her skepticism, and I voiced it loudly at the 2013 Future of Design Conference in Boston. During the opening forum, tech host Luria Petrucci described an emerging frontier – the Internet of Things. Several examples were offered, though one stood out: the smart ladle. As described, it would connect to a smartphone app and relay the temperature of your soup. To me, this was absurd – a needless gadget that wasted engineering time and research dollars. After all, a basic kitchen thermometer from the last century could do the job more reliably, more quickly, and without the help of Bluetooth. 

When the floor opened for questions, I raised my hand – confident, maybe even a little smug – glad to be the lone voice pushing back against tech for tech’s sake. Whiz-bang gadgets that solved problems nobody had struck me as a waste of time, money, and talent. Then Ms. Petrucci changed my mind with a single word: Market.

That simple word carries real weight. The market decides what survives and what fades into the junk drawer of history. Take a moment to consider:

  1. New technologies almost always come with a high price tag. Early adopters pay not only to buy, but also to install, maintain, and troubleshoot these devices. The cost grows when follow-up versions – often incompatible with the first – begin flooding the market. Brand updates and competing formats force users into cycles of replacement or abandonment.
  2. Most people, especially those with less disposable income or less interest in tech trends, choose to wait. These users let market forces shake out what works and what doesn’t. If a connected device offers only novelty, the market will strip it of value. It will disappear.
  3. Cost alone doesn’t determine survival. There’s another price to pay – consequence. Smart homes, like smartphones before them, introduce real risks. Many users begin with little awareness of what’s being collected, tracked, or sold. Over time, they learn – usually by proxy – about surveillance, breaches, and behavior profiling. The question becomes: once the public catches on, will smart homes go the way of the Segway or the smartphone?

Smartphone adoption offers a clear answer. Pew Research data shows that over 97% of the population now owns a smart mobile device (Pew Research Center, 2018). Awareness of surveillance or security risks has done little to slow this trend. Most users, even when informed, are unwilling to give up the convenience.

Expense and consequence alone do not stop adoption – they refine it. Together, these factors help shape a powerful, three-tier form of market regulation: caution, value, and backlash. This framework aligns with Lawrence Lessig’s Code 2.0, where market forces are listed as one of four primary regulators of digital behavior (Grimmelmann, n.d.).

That’s why the smart ladle, as ridiculous as it sounds (and it does), still holds conceptual value. Build the device, release it into the world, and let the market decide whether it earns a place in people’s homes.

Ms. Hill made the same mistake I once did – judging the technology in isolation. Her experiment overloaded a home with devices, not for quality of life, but for quantity of data. In trying to learn how the tech collects information, she buried her household in tools designed more for novelty than necessity. No surprise it became a frustrating experience. That setup was destined to fail. It’s like blaming a hammer for a splintered board or a crooked shelf.

At time of writing, smart appliance adoption stands at 14%, with forecasts placing it near 22% within the next four years (Statista, n.d.). These aren’t explosive numbers, but they suggest gradual acceptance. Most people, like me, don’t live in sensor-saturated homes. My setup includes only a few smart devices – each chosen with purpose. Despite the hype, the backlash, and the headlines, buyers continue voting with their wallets.

If that trend holds, Ms. Hill’s conclusion may be less a warning and more a moment of early frustration. Novelty will fade. Utility will remain.

References

Hill, K. (2018, February 7). The house that spied on me. Gizmodo. https://gizmodo.com/the-house-that-spied-on-me-1822429852

Pew Research Center. (2018, February 5). Mobile fact sheet. https://www.pewinternet.org/fact-sheet/mobile/

Grimmelmann, J. (n.d.). Internet law: Cases and problems (Version 41). https://internetcasebook.com/

Statista. (n.d.). Smart appliances – United States: Market forecast. https://www.statista.com/outlook/389/109/smart-appliances/united-states

Forced Preparedness?

Is There a Way to Force Self-Preparedness?

For all the talk about being ready, one reality remains – even the most passionate advocates for disaster preparation must admit that most of our time isn’t spent dealing with disasters. Life is hectic. Life is expensive. Most of us aren’t neglecting preparation out of ignorance or apathy. We’re prioritizing what seems urgent now, not what might be urgent someday.

So how can we push back against our tendency to get swept up in daily life? One of the best ways may be to get involved. When we take on responsibility for others, we often become more responsible for ourselves.

Fortunately, there are simple ways to start. One standout is the CERT program – Community Emergency Response Training. This national initiative, supported by the Department of Homeland Security and managed by local emergency teams, equips everyday people with the skills to respond to disasters in their communities. The training empowers volunteers to act during emergencies – but it also has a powerful side effect. It helps participants become more prepared in their own homes and lives (Department of Homeland Security, 2018).

CERT members are trained to respond effectively during disasters. They also provide support during community events, offering a sense of ongoing purpose and engagement.

When you stop trying to “go it alone,” you’re far less likely to keep pushing off emergency prep for “when I have time.” CERT is just one example of a no-cost, community-based solution – but the principle holds across the board. Take on a shared responsibility, and you’ll naturally become more prepared yourself when real calamities strike.

To learn more or find a program near you, visit ready.gov/community-emergency-response-team.

References

Department of Homeland Security. (n.d.). Community Emergency Response Team. Retrieved April 18, 2018, from https://www.ready.gov/community-emergency-response-team

 

Rotten Tornadoes

Does our search for blame hinder preparedness?

It’s a simple fact of human nature: when something bad happens, we want to know why. That isn’t necessarily a flaw. It might be what makes us human. Animals tend to care about what happened and how, but they don’t ask why. Humans do. That one question may be the reason we’ve advanced to the point of altering the planet on a scale comparable to supervolcanoes and meteor strikes.

It’s unfortunate, though, that our curiosity about why often brings along a companion – who. Who caused this? Who should have done something? Who do we blame? We may be powerful enough to reshape the Earth, yet we are still subject to the same planetary and cosmic forces that drive earthquakes, storms, and droughts.

Take this excerpt from an article on Hurricane Harvey:

Weather and climate don’t cause disasters – vulnerability does.
Perhaps counter-intuitively, this means that the widespread discussion as to whether the Hurricane Harvey disaster was caused by climate change or not becomes a dangerous distraction. (Kelman, 2017)

The opening line points right to “someone is at fault” for Hurricane Harvey. The problem is, WHO is at fault? This article is hardly unique – a google search of “disaster blame” turns up it and thousands more. It’s a bold take, and a familiar one. A quick search for “disaster blame” turns up thousands of articles just like it.

Blame is easy to assign. That doesn’t make it accurate, or fair. Where I live, still safely 100 kilometers from one of the deadliest chemical stockpiles on Earth, we often shake our heads at people caught in disasters. Why did they live there? Why didn’t they move? Why weren’t they ready?

Is that smugness justified? Are people foolish for living in coastal cities that get hit by storms? We say similar things about residents of tornado country. Or those in California, sitting precariously on the edge of the continent.

Do people in the developing world build shanty towns in dangerous zones because they don’t know better? Or is it because global systems – shaped largely by those of us in wealthier nations – leave them no better options?

It becomes a loop of questions with murky answers. None of them help much when disaster actually strikes.

I don’t have a clean answer. Not asking questions would certainly hinder our ability to adapt and learn. I just wonder if we spend too much time asking who failed instead of what failed. In a world full of forces we still don’t fully control, focusing more on the latter might prepare us better for the next blow.

References

Kelman, I., 2017, August 29. “Don’t blame climate change for the Hurricane Harvey disaster – blame society.” The Conversation