Why did that lady sound like that?

It was Christmas. Thirty people. My grandma made her famous lasagna. Everyone was in a good mood for once. My uncle asked me to play some "background music" on the TV because I was the youngest person there and therefore the designated technology person for all family gatherings, forever, with no exceptions. No problem. I grabbed the remote, opened YouTube on the smart TV, and hit play on what I was absolutely certain was a Christmas playlist I'd been listening to earlier. It was not a Christmas playlist. Here's the thing about the YouTube algorithm at 2 AM. It doesn't care about you. It doesn't care about your future. It definitely doesn't care about your Christmas dinner two weeks later. It just quietly adds things to your watch history that no man alive has the willpower to skip past at 2 in the morning. And apparently, it also saves them in your recently played. Three seconds of audio. That's all it took. Thirty people. Four generations. Including my eighty-two year old grandmother who was mid-bite. I got the TV off so fast I nearly threw the remote across the room. The silence that followed was the loudest thing I've ever heard. My seven year old cousin turned to her mom and said "why did that lady sound like that?" My dad looked at me with an expression I will never forget for as long as I live. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. My grandma, absolute legend, broke the silence by standing up and saying "who wants more lasagna?" Nobody talked about it at dinner. But my mom texted me under the table: "We will be discussing this later." We discussed it later. I am still, to this day, not allowed to be in charge of the TV at family gatherings.

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