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Are You Sirius

Trey Reely | September 2013

    Technology is great, isn’t it? It has helped many people renew and continue relationships through social media; in many cases, brand new relationships have formed that would have been next to impossible just a few years ago. My newest relationship (strictly professional, I can assure you) has been with Siri, my iPhone personal assistant. I have found her to be very helpful, but we do have some problems with trust.
    In Branson, Missouri while searching for the best route to our hotel, my wife and I asked Siri for directions, and she cleverly guided us off the beaten path for what we thought might be a little short cut. Sadly, we discovered that she had simply gone rogue; her final direction: “You have arrived. Please exit the vehicle and proceed to walk a short distance to your destination.” I’ve got to hand it to her – we were somewhat near the hotel. Unfortunately, to get there from where Siri led us we would have had to sneak behind private apartments, walk up an embankment, climb up a cement wall, and scale a tall fence to get there. Maybe she just thought we needed the exercise, but I was afraid to ask.
    Unfortunately, Siri and I have not been able to bond over music. It’s obvious that most of her training was in business classes with little time for music appreciation. Just asking her to remind me of various music-related tasks seems to confound her. I have even given her multiple chances, but to no avail. Here are a few examples:

Me: “Remember to take the timbales to the band clinic.”
Siri: “Remember to take tamales to the band clinic.”

Me: “Remember to take the timbales to the band clinic.”
Siri: “Remember to symbologies to the band clinic.”
Me: “Remember to take the timbales to the band clinic.”
Siri: “Remember to take Tim volleys to the band clinic.”

Me: “Don’t forget to put the contrabassoon in the repair shop.”
Siri: “I found fifteen auto repair shops close to you.”
Me: “Put the claves back in the cabinet.”
Siri: “Put the clubface back in the cabinet.”

Me: “Put the claves back in the percussion cabinet.”
Siri: “Put the cloudbase back in the percussion Kevin.”

Me: “Remind me to order reeds for the saxophones.”
Siri: “Werder Reedsford alto saxophone.”

Me: “Remind me to tune the timpani.”
Siri: “Turn the Tempany.”

Me: “Remind me to order the crotales tomorrow.”
Siri: “Order the fillets tomorrow.”

Me: “Remind me to order the scores for La Fiesta Mexicana.”
Siri: “Order the scores for the luckiest the Mexicana.”

Me: “Order the scores for Sousa’s Nobles of the Mystic Shrine.”
Siri: “Washington was defeated by Los Angeles yesterday; the final score was 75-57.

Me: “Siri, you know nothing about music.”
Siri: “I know a lot about many things, Trey.”

Me: “Siri, were you ever in band?”
Siri: “I don’t know what that means. If you like, I can search the web.”

Because this column is about her, I thought I would solicit her help in concluding it.

Me: “Can you help me write the end of this article about you that will be in The Instrumentalist?”
Siri: “I don’t see magazine article in your address book. Should I look for businesses by that name?”

Strike one.

Me: “Say goodnight, Siri.”
Siri: “I can only get hourly forecasts for the next twelve hours.”

Strike two.

Me: “Say goodbye, Siri.”
Siri: “I don’t know what you mean by say goodbye Siri.”

Strike three.

Me: “Strike three, you’re out.”
Siri: “You are certainly entitled to that opinion.”

    I think I need a new personal assistant, but since I can’t afford a human one (and they’re too heavy too carry everywhere) I’ll just have to live with Siri and her many foibles. At the very least, she’s entertaining.    l