‘Smart’ mattress the most idiotic invention ever
There are inventions that change the world.
But for every light bulb, wheel, X-ray, telephone, internal combustion engine, satellite, penicillin, World Wide Web and martini shaker, there are a thousand inventions that change only our faith in humanity by crushing it.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the “Smarttress.”
Marketed as “the first mattress that detects deception,” the Smarttress turns your bed into a snitch. Using technology frowned upon by the good people at Serta or Simmons — “vibration sensors,” “ultrasonic waves,” “contact zones” — this anti-cheater bed has a stealthy “Lover Detection System,” one that flags hanky-panky.
Now all you need is a rocking chair that says you’ve lost your marbles.
I am unfamiliar with Durmet, the Spanish company behind the Smarttress.
Could this be a publicity stunt? Sure. A hoax? Maybe, though it seems needlessly elaborate for a corporate prank.
What I do know is the Smarttress is the most idiotic invention ever.
And, yes, I am aware of the creepy “Pet Petter,” the ghastly “Bread Gloves” and the shameless “Air Conditioned Shoes” that — spoiler alert — come with holes in the soles.
The Smarttress begins with a pandemic assumption: “The global infidelity crisis KNOCKS ON YOUR DOOR.” It ends with a promise to buyers: “If anybody uses your bed in a suspicious way, Smarttress WILL WARN YOU.”
Let us now pull back the sheets on the epic lunacy in between.
Forget about infidelity for a minute. If you live with your partner, you know big purchases are joint decisions.
No one impulse-buys a leather sectional unilaterally. You don’t order an armoire or gas stove without broaching the subject.
I’m scared to pick up fabric soft- ener without first clearing it with my wife.
But, what? She’s not going to notice, care or ask questions about a new bed I spring on her that comes with a 200-page manual and connects to the Internet? When she’s startled by a whirring rattle at 3 a.m., she’s going to shrug and nod off when I say, “Oh, don’t worry. That’s just the speedometer recalibrating to ensure future intensity and impact readings are accurate.”
Also, is this how people now have flings? They use their own beds? They don’t skulk into hotels or romp in the back seat of cars or take business trips? If this is true, I can only assume the Smarttress is not targeting couples with young children: “So this is it, sexy lady. My bachelor pad. Make yourself comfortable near that pile of Robert Munsch books. Do you like the music? It’s an Australian indie band called the Wiggles. Wow, your eyes really pop near my Shopkins display case. Can I get you something before we go upstairs? Cheese stick? Granola bar? Juice box?”
To appreciate the futility of a “smart mattress,” consider some cheating allegations in the news recently involving celebrity couples: Iggy Azalea and Nick Young, Elton John and David Furnish, Kendra Wilkinson and Hank Baskett.
Now ask yourself: How could a Smarttress prevent these hijinks? Answer: It couldn’t.
On the other hand, if every bed were a Smarttress, we would have an endless supply of cheating scandals to uncover.
I suppose there is no guarantee a “smart” product won’t be stupid. But the problem here — and it’s one that does not impact “smart” thermostats, fridges, doors and lights — is that this misguided bed-tech has no way of identifying triggers.
You suspect your partner is cheating. Fine. Instead of going for counselling, you covertly drop $1,700 on a Smarttress. All right. Now you’re at work during a meeting when your iPhone gets an urgent alert: “PRESSURE POINTS ACTIVATED. VIBRATIONS DETECTED. CALCULATING SPEED.”
Is that your spouse having an affair? Anapping St. Bernard? Did you leave the bedroom window open? Did you forget a laundry basket on the bed that morning that tipped over? Did your partner leave work early, feeling off, and then have a mild seizure in your marital bed, something you only sheepishly discover after racing home, kicking down the door and shouting, “I knew it!”
It’s sad to think this is where we are as a society. An overreliance on technology has fused with a culture of mistrust and now people want their beds to spy on their soulmates. Coincidentally, $1,700 is in the ballpark for a divorce, which is where this is likely headed after the Smarttress short-circuits and catches fire as you and your partner are watching Jeopardy!
But what if the crackpots at Durmet are flooded with orders? What’s next? A smart toilet that texts your wife when you leave the seat up? A smart GPS that relays co-ordinates to your husband, leading to a huge argument when your car breaks down outside a Chippendales? A smart toaster that detects when I’m using white bread even though I’ve been repeatedly told to embrace the multi-grain?
These are dark days, my friends. And this darkness, more than any fears of betrayal, is what should be giving us sleepless nights in beds that were once just beds.