Alexa: The New Business School
“Alexa! Can you add A-batteries to my shopping list?” The hubs asks innocently. He doesn’t notice the two sets of wide, little eyes that belong to his two smart, little daughters logging away his every word.
And that’s how, days later, we ended up with this on our front porch:
(photo credit: Alabama News Center)
“What’d you order from Amazon?” The hubs asks.
“Nothing,” I say. “What’d you order from Amazon?” Because it takes two to tango and all that jazz…err…tango music…
We open it up, and those same two sets of eyes that were watching their dad days earlier grow huge in excitement. Because, THIS is what was in that box:
“You ordered a dozen bags of marshmallows?” Hubs asks.
Pssh. Of course not! I mean, if we’re being honest, I wasn’t entirely positive it wasn’t me. I have been known to accidentally order some pretty strange things in the past.
We notice our 4- and 6- year old daughters torn between full-on diving into the pile of white sugar-puffed bags, and hiding behind whatever shadow they can find on the floor. Something’s fishy…
“Did you guys order marshmallows??” I ask. They nod, equal parts sheepish and ridiculously proud. And rightly so. But how??
They point to our Alexa speaker. Hubs pulls up our Amazon account and, sure enough, one of the things in our order history from Alexa is indeed, a dozen bags of marshmallows. Luckily, that’s the only thing they ordered that actually made it to our house… here’s what the rest of our wish-list looked like, thanks to their little shopping spree with Alexa:
Baby ocelot?!? I mean, not to be picky, but I sort-of wish that was the item that had somehow made it to our house instead of a mountain of ‘mallows. “Alright,” I say, trying to be the responsible parent instead of resisting the urge alongside my kids to jump into the bags. “Keep them in the box, I’ll ship them back in the morning.” To my surprise, the girls don’t complain. They don’t even make a single peep (pun fully intended). It’s the hubs who speaks up. “No,” he says. “Don’t send them back. The girls ordered them, so now they need to figure out what to do with them. They can start by paying us back for their purchase.”
I shoot the hubs a I-can’t-believe-you look, but was secretly proud of his awesome dad-ness. Still no complaining from the girls, because it was dad who made the rule, not mom. Together, they calculate how much each kid owes us. Then, the girls shuffle to their tiny piggy banks and shake out the right amount of change.
It was a few days before Thanksgiving, and I hadn’t done my grocery shopping yet. I did need some ‘mallows for my sweet potatoes.
“Hey guys,” I offer up. “Can I buy one of your bag from you?” They (with the help of their business-savvy daddy) ask me how much I’d pay for a sack at the store. Then, they UPCHARGE me, saying it’s worth the price to save me a trip. Feeling slightly ripped off, but also terribly proud of my children, I can’t refuse. They easily sell their first bag. Their little sister starts freaking out, because there’s a hill of marshmallows and no one’s given her a single one. So, the girls (who are now on a role), figure out how many marshmallows are in each bag, divide that number from the amount they charged me for a whole bag, and demand 10 cents for each individual marshmallow.
Their baby sister (you guys, she was only two at the time) toddles off to her piggy bank and comes back with twin dimes. Cha-ching! In return, she receives two pillows of sugar.
And that’s how my daughters turned a profit on their accidental (?) Alexa purchase. Quite possibly one of the hub’s most brilliant and lasting lessons to date. Let it be a lesson to you, too: Business school’s for suckers — get an Alexa unit instead ;)
In other news, I’m still waiting for that baby ocelot…
Originally published at www.chelseaflagg.com.
