Smelling B, you say? Recalculating.
When my sister-in-law opted for a take-home testing kit instead of a full-blown colonoscopy, she persuaded her husband, my oldest brother, to drop off her sample at the clinic on his way to work.
He was happy to do it. Wouldn’t even need to recalculate his route.
Gingerly carrying the byproduct in its triple-sealed bag, he walked into the clinic thinking he’d hand it to the person at the front desk and be off.
But no one was there. While waiting, he responded to several emails, then went back to the desk, and called out again. Still no one.
Now pressed for time, he left the properly marked bag on a visible shelf where someone official was bound to find it, and headed out.
Talking into his smartwatch, Dan assured Jen he’d completed his assignment.
“Left your poop on the elf” was the text she received.
I guess we’re too far into this technology, and we’d feel lost without Apple’s Siri, Google’s Alexa, and Amazon’s Echo, but we appear to be entrusting our most valuable assets to virtual assistants who can’t pass a second-grade spelling bee.
I’d allow Siri to claim, “Typo,” and let this drop.
But she won’t stop. She continues to embarrass us with her malaprops. I fear we’re letting our smartphones’ totally uncross our T’s under the guise of spell checker.
When my other brother, Den, wanted to stay home from a weekly book study, feeling too sentimental and a tad teary on the eve of their 25th anniversary, my sister-in-law Elsa texted the group.
Her friend wrote back, “Elsa, you better reread what you sent us.”
“After 25 years, we’re staying home because Den is really ready.”
When teary becomes ready, you have to wonder. Has anyone thought to give Siri a reading comprehension test? My Fitbit Blaze is willing to serve as timekeeper.
And the evolution continues. My nephew received a Google Assistant for Christmas. We spent the better part of the evening yelling at it. “Hey, Google, tell us a joke.” “Hey, Google, play a game with us.”
My mom is spooked that Google is always listening. I scoffed, but now I’m not so sure. I just read that GE is designing ceiling lights with microphones and speakers. A ceiling Siri some are calling it.
If that happens, I’ll really need to speak up because at 5’3” I won’t exactly be eye to eye with her when I tell her to dim the chandelier.
“Siri! Stop it! I told you to turn off the light! Turn off, not cough.”
If worse comes to worse, I suppose I can unplug her and put her on the elf.