(SNN) - My lovely wife was calling on a borrowed phone to tell me she had forgotten hers. Would I be a lamb and check a number for her in her iPhone directory?
I understand an iPhone about as well as Schrodinger’s Cat understands quantum physics, so I should have just pled stupidity and been done with it.
“But of course,” I heard a voice remarkably like mine respond. It reeked of steely confidence, like a bomb squad technician about to defuse another Improvised explosive device.
“It’s a piece of cake, Sweetheart.”
“So you’ll do that for me now?”
“After I have my piece of cake,” I said.
I wolfed down the cake and my Lovely Wife talked me through the steps to get the number she needed. She told me which wire to snip (green), then thanked me profusely and hung up.
Now, all I had to do is turn off the phone and go on with my life. Right.
First one of my fat fingers accidentally tapped the screen. This fetched Siri, the fabled iPhone know-it-all. Either Siri had a bad cold or underwent gender reassignment surgery because she sounded like Tom Waits and Harvey Fierstein‘s love child. I decided to call him Larri.
Larri seems slightly POed as he asks: “How may I help you today, kind sir or madam? Keep in mind that I’m very busy and many people with far more serious issues than yours also need to be served.”
“Never mind,” I say. “Didn’t mean to call.”
You iPhone owners already know that Siri/Larri needs to have her/his proper button pushed to hear you. The proper button is cleverly disguised as a microphone icon. Who would have guessed?
Larri soon realized I am iPhone-challenged and filled the screen with a list of suggested questions I might wish to ask.
First offering: “How do I contact my sister?”
I have two comments:
- Oh, wow! What prescience! I wonder what incredible technology, corporate empathy or algorithmic intuition put that question atop my list? The geniuses at Apple must truly understand the strong bond between siblings, and hence seek to allay the anguish a brother/sister disconnect might cause.
- I don’t have a sister.
So I employed my standard computer crisis correction technique. I swipe the screen like a hyperactive Howler Monkey. All that does is irritate Larri.
“Thanks to your incompetence,” Larri huffs, “an elderly woman and her kitten have just frozen to death in Ogden, Utah. Granted, neither had any will to live because they’re in Utah, but any loss of innocent life diminishes Mankind and more importantly, costs Apple a customer.”
It finally dawns on me what the Microphone Icon means, and I push it.
“Tee-hee, that tickles,” Larri says. “What up, Homes? Talk to me, Bro.”
In a million years I could not have predicted the next exchange.
“Tell me how do I turn off this iPhone?” I ask.
“I am unable to assist you regarding that matter,” Larri answers.
Maybe the new iPhone will address that little glitch.
Is Siri 6 Unstumpable, Or Suck Like Cinco?
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