In today’s world, technology and its changes are swift and often difficult to keep up with. It almost seems like yesterday when an ‘iPad’ was something you put over your eye after your brother poked you with a stick. And yet, is all this technology truly improving our lives? Oh sure, some medical advances have saved lives, prevented some misery, and allowed people to live better and longer lives, but some things are just not necessary.
For me, the invention that has vexed me most of late is Bluetooth technology in my vehicle, and most specifically, SIRI. This particular electronic nuisance allows you to query your iPhone about practically everything, from local restaurants to trivia to emails and texts. SIRI also is used in my particular Bluetooth connection in my truck.
Therein lies the rub.
It would appear that my truck is having a fling with SIRI, and is messing with me like I am the un-wanted love child in this relationship. SIRI has turned into ‘Mommy Dearest’, and my truck is quite possibly the Devil.
Oh….so you think I am exaggerating, do you? I’m blowing things way out of proportion, am I? Well, let me tell you how this insidious life-ruining plot began.
It was all quite innocently, really. Or so I thought at the time. “Bluetooth Audio’ I exclaimed when I pressed the appropriate button. ‘No Bluetooth Device Is Available; I will try to connect one.’ But I had just used my phone….so there IS a bluetooth device available! I thought this was odd, as it had worked fine. A flitch maybe? I tried again and this time it connected and my music played. There we go.
But, over the next while, this connection with SIRI was getting more preposterous. I wanted to call my wife, so I said ‘Call Anne Gingras’. SIRI didn’t get French names too well so I have had to change how I pronounce my name to satisfy her. And instead of calling Anne, SIRI said ‘I shall now call you Dingus!’ No matter what I did, it kept calling me Dingus.
That happened two phones ago. And one truck ago. And yet I am still tormented by SIRI, who continues to insist that I am called Dingus, and that I don’t necessarily want to listen to music when I say I do, and I most certainly don’t want to call anyone in particular (unless I try to call my shop, at which point SIRI goes out of her way to call either the future Shop or Luc Desormeaux).
I have been seen driving around town arguing seemingly with myself, but now you know….I am arguing with my phone and my truck. And unfortunately, I am losing.
Dingus.
Bill's Musings 