I recently junked my old cell phone and got a brand-new Galaxy Something from Samsung. While not admitting to officially being a senior yet, I am aware I am within hailing distance of old fartdom, which is reflected in my cell phone habits. Mostly I use it for talking to people. I admit I check my emails on it. I send and receive text messages, although grudgingly. I even Google stuff on it to settle arguments, unless the argument is with my special lady. I don't use it then. I may be old, but I'm not senile.
I leave my phone in the car sometimes, or at the other end of the house. I keep it in my pocket when I carry it, not in one of those dorky-looking phone holsters they try to sell you at the phone store. When I am in a social setting, I look at the other people, not my phone, even though the other people are mostly looking at their phones.
The only thing I use the phone constantly for is to guide me to destinations with its GPS function. My new phone is far superior to my old for this. I use the voice option, so I don't have to look at the screen while I'm driving, so a syrupy female voice is always telling me where to go. I call her Sweet Thang.
And Sweet Thang knows the way. Unlike my old GPS, which was constantly plunking me into traffic jams and occasionally advising me to make impossibly dangerous U-turns on on-ramps, Sweet Thang knows when the freeway is clogged. in which case she counsels me to take another route, and when I haven't reversed course but am merely circling the ramp.
She has few flaws, but one of them is her pronunciation of Spanish names. We have a crap-ton of Spanish street names here in SD, and Sweet Thang garbles them like she landed at the airport yesterday. "San Jacinto" is pronounced "San Ha-keen-toe," but she calls it "San Ja-Sin-Toe." We have a road here called Jamacha Road, which in local custom is pronounced "Hamashaw." She calls it "Jamucha." One of these days I'm taking her to La Jolla just to see how she does with that.
If she's not sure of a pronunciation, she slurs through it sometimes just like a real person would. This occasionally results in me missing turns, and asking her "Where are we going here, Thang?" which just causes her to reply "If you asked me a question, I didn't understand it," in a tone that can only be described as icy.
Sometimes she stops talking to me for reasons I can't fathom, just like a real woman, but unlike a real woman, I don't have to buy her flowers or paint a bathroom to make her garrulous again. I just have to press her reset button. So that's a plus.
She also knows the fastest way everywhere. I got around this town for years on my own, but Thang is showing me secret ways I never imagined. I swoop through residential streets and back alleys I've never viewed before. This is good in terms of scenery, but if I'm low on gas or have to go to the bathroom or otherwise have a need that is best satisfied on an expansive boulevard bustling with places of commerce, it can be inconvenient.
But all in all, she makes me happy. I admit it. But don't think I'm falling in love with a robot, as in some silly high-tech romantic comedy. Sweet Thang and I are just friends, and it's going to stay that way.
After all, it's pretty obvious she's been around.
I leave my phone in the car sometimes, or at the other end of the house. I keep it in my pocket when I carry it, not in one of those dorky-looking phone holsters they try to sell you at the phone store. When I am in a social setting, I look at the other people, not my phone, even though the other people are mostly looking at their phones.
The only thing I use the phone constantly for is to guide me to destinations with its GPS function. My new phone is far superior to my old for this. I use the voice option, so I don't have to look at the screen while I'm driving, so a syrupy female voice is always telling me where to go. I call her Sweet Thang.
And Sweet Thang knows the way. Unlike my old GPS, which was constantly plunking me into traffic jams and occasionally advising me to make impossibly dangerous U-turns on on-ramps, Sweet Thang knows when the freeway is clogged. in which case she counsels me to take another route, and when I haven't reversed course but am merely circling the ramp.
She has few flaws, but one of them is her pronunciation of Spanish names. We have a crap-ton of Spanish street names here in SD, and Sweet Thang garbles them like she landed at the airport yesterday. "San Jacinto" is pronounced "San Ha-keen-toe," but she calls it "San Ja-Sin-Toe." We have a road here called Jamacha Road, which in local custom is pronounced "Hamashaw." She calls it "Jamucha." One of these days I'm taking her to La Jolla just to see how she does with that.
If she's not sure of a pronunciation, she slurs through it sometimes just like a real person would. This occasionally results in me missing turns, and asking her "Where are we going here, Thang?" which just causes her to reply "If you asked me a question, I didn't understand it," in a tone that can only be described as icy.
Sometimes she stops talking to me for reasons I can't fathom, just like a real woman, but unlike a real woman, I don't have to buy her flowers or paint a bathroom to make her garrulous again. I just have to press her reset button. So that's a plus.
She also knows the fastest way everywhere. I got around this town for years on my own, but Thang is showing me secret ways I never imagined. I swoop through residential streets and back alleys I've never viewed before. This is good in terms of scenery, but if I'm low on gas or have to go to the bathroom or otherwise have a need that is best satisfied on an expansive boulevard bustling with places of commerce, it can be inconvenient.
But all in all, she makes me happy. I admit it. But don't think I'm falling in love with a robot, as in some silly high-tech romantic comedy. Sweet Thang and I are just friends, and it's going to stay that way.
After all, it's pretty obvious she's been around.
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