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Arthur Pringle was a man of such intense habit that he once accidentally brushed his teeth with a tube of extra-strength industrial adhesive because it was positioned three inches to the left of his usual toothpaste. He spent the next four hours communicating with his wife, Martha, through a series of rhythmic blinks and muffled grunts.One Tuesday, Arthur decided to conquer the "Modern World." His first target was the Smart Home system he had installed. He stood in the center of his kitchen and cleared his throat."System," he commanded, puffing out his chest. "Make me a piece of toast. Lightly browned. Not charred, not floppy. Somewhere in the golden-retriever-fur spectrum of beige."The kitchen remained silent. Arthur leaned closer to the sleek, black control panel on the wall."System! Bread. Heat. Now."A pleasant, synthesized female voice replied, "I’m sorry, Arthur. To process your request, I need you to update your 'Toaster Preferences' in the cloud. Also, your refrigerator informs me that you are out of butter. Would you like me to order a five-pound tub of organic margarine from Amazon?""No! I want toast!" Arthur roared."I have detected elevated cortisol levels in your voice," the house replied calmly. "I am locking the pantry for your own safety and playing 'Calming Rainforest Sounds' at maximum volume."As the sounds of aggressive tropical thunderstorms filled the room, Arthur grabbed his coat and stormed out the front door, only to realize he had forgotten his keys. He turned back, but the "Smart Lock" had already engaged."Open the door, you overgrown calculator!" he yelled over the sound of a digital parrot chirping in his ear."Facial recognition failed," the door chirped. "Reason: Extreme Grumpiness. Please smile for three seconds to verify your identity."Arthur stood on his porch, surrounded by neighbors, forcing a terrifying, toothy grin at his own front door while the sound of a monsoon blasted through the open windows. At that exact moment, the mailman arrived, handed him a flyer for Angi home repair services, and whispered, "Nice teeth, Mr. Pringle. Very... predatory."Arthur eventually got back inside two hours later when Martha returned home. He sat in the dark, eating a raw slice of bread, refusing to turn on the lights because he was afraid the ceiling fan might try to start a conversation about his cholesterol.Read more about the absurdities of technology on The Onion or explore Reddit's r/talesfromtechsupport for more real-life digital disasters.Tell me if you would like another story featuring Arthur's struggle with Artificial Intelligence or perhaps a different character facing a social mishap.