Is your coffee maker over-engineered?

Patrick Reany

5 March 2024

Yesterday I was trying to figure out what people really mean when they use the term 'over-engineered'.
This is what I think it's supposed to mean:

Product X is over-engineered if one or both of the following two characteristics apply to it:

A certain required functionality of X needed an engineering solution to make it work at
all or at least to make it work efficiently; however, the engineers overlooked a simple
solution and instead came up with a complicated or inelegant solution.

X has more features than it really needs, making it overly expensive, complicated, or
unwieldly.

Long ago I was at a department store looking to purchase a new coffee maker. I could see on the
shelves a long row of complicated and expensive coffee makers that have some gadgetry designed
to interest some buyer. I commented at the time that all I wanted was a machine to make coffee
and I don't want it to tell me the weather in Europe. (Okay, I was being facetious. I have nothing
against the weather in Europe.) Perhaps it was at that particular time that I was getting a feel
for what is meant by 'over-engineered'.

Anyway, yesterday I thought that perhaps someone else has had the feeling that modern coffee makers
are 'over-engineered', so I entered it as a search string to find out if it is I alone that has this feeling:
'Is your coffee maker over-engineered?'

But then Copilot got facetious with me and replied with the following:

Copilot:
Is your coffee maker over-engineered? Well, let’s ponder this caffeinated conundrum.

Imagine a coffee maker with more bells and whistles than a spaceship dashboard. It boasts an
AI-powered bean selector, meticulously analyzing coffee beans’ quantum vibrations to
determine the perfect brew. The temperature control system rivals a nuclear reactor,
ensuring your coffee is precisely 91.4°C (or 196.5°F) -- the optimal sipping temperature
according to ancient coffee scrolls.

But wait, there’s more! This coffee maker features a self-cleaning mode that rivals a Roomba's
dedication. It disassembles itself, scrubs every crevice, and even polishes the carafe. The Bluetooth
-enabled carafe syncs with your phone, whispering sweet nothings about coffee’s existential purpose.

And let’s not forget the extraterrestrial design. It resembles a sleek alien artifact -- part coffee maker,
part interdimensional portal. When you brew a cup, it emits a faint hum, as if communicating with
distant galaxies. Perhaps it’s saying, "Greetings, Earthling. Your latte awaits."

But practicality? Nah. It takes 37 steps to brew a single cup. You need a PhD in coffeeology to
operate it. And the price? Well, it costs as much as a small moon. But hey, it's not just a coffee maker;
it's a lifestyle statement. You don't drink coffee; you ascend to caffeinated enlightenment.

So, is it over-engineered? Absolutely. But sometimes, in the pursuit of perfection, we forget that
coffee is about warmth, ritual, and that delightful morning aroma. Maybe simplicity -- a humble
French press or a classic drip brew -- holds the true secret to coffee nirvana.

In conclusion, dear coffee maker engineers, less warp drive, more caffeine drive.

I have to admit that Copilot made me laugh. It jumped right in and took hold of the spirit of my
frustration and came back at me with a piece of clever and unexpected sarcasm that I would have
thought was beyond the capabilities of an AI. In particular, that last line makes me laugh every
time I read it.

By the way, I did have to look up the 'Roomba" reference, and that was clever too.

Postscript: But why wouldn't I like a coffee maker that does self-cleaning and has a timer? For
two reasons: First, the more complicated a device is, the sooner it will break down. And second,
the more complicated a device is, generally speaking, the more I have to read its robust manual
to get it to work right.