By I often wish my GPS would have more of a personality as it dictates directions.
Disclaimer: The following is a cautionary tale to be careful what you wish for! I now have a Jewish Mother shrieking loudly through my Mazda GPS speaker. Don’t believe me? Normally it methodically states, “Turn left in 500 feet.” But now it nags, “Turn left in 500 feet…unless you think the other way is better. I’m just suggesting. You’re the driver.”
If that isn’t suspicious enough, after I opted to turn right instead, it sighed and said, “Recalculating! But you shouldn’t worry that it’s any sort of a bother.” After I ignored directions a third time, I heard it utter, “Do whatever you want. I’m only trying to help. But your brother always listens to his GPS. I’m just saying.” Then it proceeded to switch into “Family History Tidbit” mode, which sounded something like this: “In half a mile, the destination is on the right…just past the Outback Steakhouse where your Aunt Bernice had a first date with that dentist who seemed nice but turned out to have terrible parents.” Next she cycled into “Judgment” mode. “There’s an accident ahead. You’re still on the fastest route…not like when you switched your major three different times at that expensive college, floundering over your future.” Just as I was getting extremely irritated at having my opinionated mother embodying my GPS, I remembered my car has a self-driving operating system. Quickly enabling that option, I breathed a sigh of relief; my maternal GPS would now be forced into silence as the car drove on its own.I can hear you from here wondering aloud… “And how’s that working out for you?”
“Auto Navigation is ON,” announced my GPS in a rather arrogant male voice. Wait! Was that my father? “Murray! Stay out of this! We were doing just fine without you around,” my motherly GPS retorted. Oh dear! Did I mention my parents divorced many years ago? It would be a very long car ride at this rate. “Sheila, there’s horrendous traffic ahead. Who goes out at this hour? Lunatics, that’s who!” Suddenly I noticed both systems had activated their Passive Aggressive controls, ominously glowing bright red on the dashboard. “All normal people leave the house at this hour. That’s why it’s called Rush Hour. You know Murray, if we would’ve left the house when I said we should, we would’ve been there already.” At this point, I abandoned my squabbling parents, err I mean I left my car on the side of the road and opted for walking. After all, I had my Apple Smartwatch on. What could possibly go wrong?
At first the device on my wrist seemed perfectly normal. It counted my steps, it tracked my heartrate, but then the notifications started getting uncannily personal. “You walk an average of 2.3 miles each day. Your cousin David runs marathons!” And “You haven’t had water for eighty minutes. You want you should get dehydrated? Don’t complain to me.” OMG, this was my grandmother inside my watch! I begged Bubbe to give me a break because I was exhausted. “Nu? Why so tired? I’ll tell you why.” The watch flashed my sleep chart. “See that? You only closed your eyes for five hours last night. No wonder you’re weak. And what were you doing with your phone at 2:45 am?” (I confessed to being on Instagram, watching kitten videos.) “Instagram! That’s what you’re doing with your life?” I tried to ignore my watch’s admonishments, but it began to wildly beep and short-circuit all sorts of questions and reminders.
“You didn’t answer your sister’s text. She thinks you’re mad at her. Just write Hi. Is that so hard?” And “Did you really need a second bagel? I’m just asking.” And “The temple giftshop has mezuzahs half-off. Your scroll isn’t kosher.” And “Did you RSVP to the wedding yet? They need a headcount.” And “I see you were within three blocks of my apartment yesterday and didn’t stop in for a visit. Interesting.” But when I got strategic and stopped walking, it finally concluded by declaring, “You’ve arrived! Text someone so they know you got here safely.” Honestly, I was just going to wait it out, certain that the battery would eventually run out of juice. But then it dawned on me….Family inhabited devices will last forever, powered solely by Concern, Guilt and Meddling. Oy!
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