Siri's Programming Geeks Should Avoid Cuervo

Siri’s Programming Geeks Should Avoid Cuervo

I’m using Siri more, the personal assistant on my iPhone.  Somehow the geek programmers, who think the consummate prank is replacing bathroom soap with hand sanitizer, were able to infuse her with a sharp sense of humor.  

http://mashable.com/2013/05/25/geek-pride-day/

How?  I imagine Apple’s Marketing department attempted to boost sales by jumpstarting the creativity of the geeks in Development.  They probably spiked the office water cooler the day all the Sheldons (The Big Bang Theory) developed Siri’s jocularity gene because her personality exudes subtle shades of José Cuervo.

azoft.com

http://tinlizardproductions.com/2012/07/12/drinkvergence/

I visualize the smug geniuses, lounging with their happy juice, thoughtfully stroking the peach fuzz on their chins because they’re not old enough to shave, programming clever responses to questions we mental midgets might ask Siri.

geekswhodrink.com

Their first Focus Group Session with regular people probably started out harmless enough.

Someone addressed Siri, “Beam me up Scotty.”  And Siri answered, “I’m afraid I have to see your badge first.”  

But as the session continued, some Cuervo creeped into Siri’s responses.  

Here are the ones Marketing had to nix:

Focus Group Participant:  “Is ‘neurode’ a real word?”

Siri:  Delving into physics?  Oh I forgot.  It’s 3:00.  Time for Words With Friends.

FGP:  “Do you like me?”

Siri:  Should you need a slightly indifferent, indentured companion, I stand ready.

FGP:  “Clinton was the most honorable and effective president in history.”

Siri:  Perhaps you’d like to invest in my Leprechauns and Gold at the End of the Rainbow dotcom opportunity.

FGP:  “Suggest a book that will challenge me.”

Siri:  One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish

FGP:  “What should I do this weekend?”

Siri:  How about an “America’s Funniest Home Videos” marathon?  Learn how the laws of physics apply when a man teaches his offspring the finer points of a baseball swing, demonstrating how mass plus velocity equals kinetic energy which is transferred from a wooden object’s center of percussion to the father’s . . . what’s the clinical term?   Family jewels. 

America's Funniest Home Videos

FGP:  “Is the atomic bomb a result of fusion or fission?”

Siri:  I’d explain it to you but I didn’t bring any crayons.

FGP:   “Is there really something called the “flux capacitor” that Doc Brown used to take Marty McFly back in time?”

Siri:  Don’t be a yammering sphincter.  KMN (kill me now)

FGP:  “Why is this email in my spam folder?”  

Siri:  I put it there after you forwarded me a picture of a cat surfing, entitled, “Must See.”

FGP:  “What is Mr. Clean Magic Eraser made of?”

Siri:   Unicorn hair.

FGP:  “How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?”   

Siri: “What part of an inverse tangent function approaching an asymptote don't you understand? . . . .  Get it?”

FGP:  “Someone hacked my Angry Birds account!  Call the police!” 

Siri:  Why?  Did the FBI hang up on you?

FGP:  “My wife is pregnant, but I’ve been overseas.  How could this happen?”

Siri:  I’d like to match wits with you, but I see you’re unarmed.

FGP:  “Has Obama spent more than any U.S. president?” 

Siri:  Was the mankini a mistake?

And Marketing quickly rejected a proposed Siri response for phones sold in the South.

scrapetv.com

FGP:  “I’m upset because I did the Devil’s Dance with my third cousin!!”

Siri:  Then stop counting.

Most Popular Posts

        Here's the summary of my most popular posts from the last two weeks:

BTW - PLEASE "Follow my blog" and "Subscribe."  Let's be clear, I'm SO not above begging.  


        Looks like "José Cuervo Might Move In" came in first. You can read it here for a good laugh.
It's about my plight with the cell phone company and Charlene, God's gift to Customer Service.

     

            I hope everyone had a good HALLOWEEN.  It has been very different for me and hubs the last few years because the kids are getting older.  I have a great story about that here.  I think you'll find it very touching.   It's about how the kids grow up so fast.

        By the way, since all the blogging experts say that you should write as if you have an audience of THOUSANDS, I'll go outside the box with my wonderful audience of 30 and ask,

 "WHAT SHOULD I WRITE ABOUT THIS WEEK?"  

        Is there something that gets on your last nerve, chaps your cheeks, curdles yer cream, puts sand in your craw?  

        Does it burn yer biscuit that when the kids go out and you have 1 hour and 45 min. to watch an R-rated movie, (you haven't seen one in a few years) that you always only get 3/4 of the way through because they have the gall to come back?  

        And why do they have to come back to YOUR house?  Maybe because all the other moms want to drink wine and watch Magic Mike?  Methinks.

        Does someone in your household leave HAIR on the bar of soap?  Did I hit a nerve?

        Why do your kids always take other people's advice and NOT yours?

        The bag of Halloween candy you just ate?

        How 'bout some Mom- and Dad-shaming photos?  

        Teaching your teenager how to DRIVE?  Doing that now!  AARRGGHH. . .  I just have to drink wine breathe deeply.  Did it in my SUV today—taught her to drive that is.

        Have a great week and PLEASE come back.  I'm trying to post new stuff every day!  BTW - "Follow" and "Subscribe" now.  The first 10 new followers get a bottle of José Cuervo and a straw. . .    

Wooo!  I crack myself up.

José Cuervo May Move In

Prozac Monday

José Cuervo May Move In

I received a notice from my cell phone company that I owed $376—last month's bill and this month's.  I sent a check last month, but they don't have a record of it, and my service is in grave danger of being disconnected.

My daughters would be inconsolable if they knew because their phones are connected to my account.  If one goes, they all go. With no communication method (using house phones = social suicide, unthinkable), my teenage girls would scream and run blind-bat crazy to the corner of Savage and Psychotic like they did when I lied and told them that Netflix wouldn’t be carrying Gossip Girl episodes anymore. They’d never know if Chuck Bass and his girlfriend would ever find a suitable third for their threesome.  That tall tale was sweet revenge on account of them wearing my nice boots to the muddy Corn Maze.   

I’d rather get a bikini wax from Phil on Duck Dynasty than call the phone company, but my husband wrote on the bill in all caps to “TAKE CARE OF THIS.”  I don’t know why he feels the need to yell.

While I waited on hold fifteen minutes, I imagined that all the operators were returning from their “Margarita Monday” lunch at Taco Loco. 

“Margarita Monday” was likely how my check disappeared in the first place.  Some peon with a company ID probably used it to buy rounds of queso and Corona at Accounting’s last “Kiss My Assets” conference.

Charlene, God’s gift to Customer Service, finally came on the phone.

“ThisIsCharlene,MayIHaveYourNameAndPhoneNumber,” she asked without listening, just like my kids, but with more José Cuervo.  “Thank you. What’s your problem?”

“I got a bill for $376 from you, which is last month’s bill plus this month’s.  I already sent a check for $190 for last month.  My bank says it cleared a while ago by your company.”

By the crunch, I could tell she was finishing her nacho basket. “We do not have record of the payment, ma’am, but I will credit your account the $190,” said Mr. Cuervo.

“Really?” I said.

“Of course not,” said Charlene. 

“Well, I’d like to speak to your manager,” I said.

“She’s ‘in-disposal.’  Can’t come to the phone right now.”  I might have detected a slight slur in her speech.  “There’s nothing I can do, ma’am. There’s no way I can tell if it was really our company that ‘posited your check, IF you sent one,” giggled Charlene.

  I reached for my corkscrew.  “I’ve never heard an attitude like that!”  I said.  "Even when my computer broke and I had to talk to those condescending Dell techno-nerds in India!  I’m going to call your supervisor about this. What is YOUR name again?”

“Brenda.” 

        I tried again, and this time I got a nice girl from Georgia.  She listened to my story and wrote up an official inquiry, like a polite southerner.  

After the cell phone ordeal, I realized I’m too impatient to be in a Complaint Department.  On Mondays Charlene may spend her lunch hour with José Cuervo.  But if I were answering calls from mo-rons all day, he’d definitely have to move into my cubicle.