Geek Squad Rule #1: Run From Mom Jeans

Geek Squad Rule #1:  Run From Mom Jeans

Yesterday I went to Best Buy to shop for a computer.  Seeing as how my memory bank is full of irrelevant stuff like the “Gilligan’s Island” theme song, there has been no room in it to learn about new technology.  

theguardian.com

In order to compare computers in the store, I took pictures of them on my iPhone and typed their specs in the “Notes” section of the phone.  Hoping to attract a salesperson's attention, I looked around and spoke to myself out loud..

"When I write in 'Notes,' I wish I could put pictures with it."  

Rajeev, a nice salesman nearby, made the tragic mistake of looking me in the eye.  He was now going to have to engage me in a sales conversation. 

Poor Raj was a fairly new employee, and he had just been thrown under the bus by his “Team Member” pals who scattered at the sight of approaching mom jeans.  

examiner.com

Rajeev addressed my dilemma bravely.

“Ma’am, this might help you,” he said with a voice of dread, like he was slowly sinking in quicksand.  He pointed to the little jumbled black and white square by the computer descriptions. 

wrapcam.com

“Those squares remind me of that game ‘Tetris’ we used to play!” I said excitedly.  

Raj stared at me, silently cursing his Geek Squad agents for leaving him with someone who was alive when Elvis was.

Please note, he did not stare at me like this . . .

fanpix.famouspix.com


But like this . . .

shakesville.com

“Do you have a QR Reader?” asked Raj, seriously expecting me to know what that was, despite my mom jeans.  “It’s an app.  Here, let me see your phone.”

He searched for a second and found it right next to my app “1000 Glorious Ways to Swear Using Emojis.”  

  
    

   +






I do not know how either of those apps got there.

He opened the app, “QR Reader” and took a photo of the Tetris-looking box.  Like magic, the picture and specs of the computer I was looking at popped on my screen.   My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open with delight just like when there was only one line on the pregnancy test I took last year.

philipbrasor.com

I grabbed the phone from Raj and tried it myself.  As Raj babbled on about stuff, I couldn’t get the camera to work.  Raj snapped at me.

You're MISSING it!"

“I am NOT missing your point!” I rebutted, having no clue as to what he was just  babbling.  

“No,” Raj said patiently as he touched my hand softly.  

“Whoa.  Why did he do that?  I know I’m looking nice in my jeans and I just got my roots done.  But Raj, it just couldn’t work.  I’m almost 40. (bwaaahhh ha haaa!)  How am I going to break this to you gently?”

“No, you’re MISSING,” said Raj, interrupting my thoughts.  “You’re aiming at the BAR CODE—not the um . . . Tetris-box.”

“Oh, my bad.”

Raj took a deep breath, implying he wished he was in the break room writing code, as usual, for The Cloud instead of dealing with me.

In a final, desperate attempt to get commission for this freaking sale, he spoke to me slowly on account of me being a moron and all.  

“First, hold the phone over the Tetris-box, NOT the bar code. 

Second, do NOT press the button to “TAKE” the picture!  QR Reader will AUTOMATICALLY take the picture when it's focused, for God’s sake!”

marketmenot.com

Why didn’t he say that before?

Well . . . maybe he did.  It’s not my fault I couldn’t concentrate.  While he was babbling, something else was blaring in my mind.

"Here's the story of a lovely lady
who was bringing up three very lovely girls . . ."

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.

Everyone's Got a Hot Button—And Mine's George Clooney

Everyone's Got a Hot Button—And Mine's George Clooney

Recently a friend and I took our daughters to Atlanta, mecca of the spiritual disciplines of eating and shopping.  One morning my friend woke our exhausted teenagers, coaxing them to life by hinting about our day’s agenda.

She woke her daughter. “Lizaaaaa, C. P. Kaaaaaay!!”  (California Pizza Kitchen)  

She woke my daughter whispering “Sweetieeeeeee,  H & Mmmmmm!!”  (The cheap-clothes-for-cheap-girls store in every city but Memphis).  Seriously—my daughter isn’t cheap, but she’s all about a nice five-inch platform.

Motivating kids to move more than their texting fingers requires finding their hot buttons.  

One summer, my daughter refused to wear rubber bands on her braces.  If I couldn’t persuade her, she’d be the only metal-mouthed girl in her college sorority that could open a beer bottle with her teeth.  Except if you go to Ole Miss—almost ALL the sorority girls can do that.

I made a monthly chart and suggested giving her a dollar for each day she wore the rubber bands.  Thirty dollars could score her five or six cool tops at H & M online.  No luck.  Charts only work for Super Nanny because she’s a delicate mix of Rachel Ray and Kim Jong-un. 

So I did what any veteran mom would do whose creativity petered out after “Tinkle Targets” during her son’s potty training phase.  Bribe her.  

wingtipswire.com

It couldn’t be any old bribe—but an Instagram-worthy, braggable asset.  I sought the advice of Shannon, a frazzled friend with seven kids.  I figured she had to be creative to find ways to keep her husband away from her ‘til, um. . . forever.

“What does she like to do?” Shannon asked wisely.

“Shop online at HootchieFashion.com, text, start major physics projects at midnight before they’re due, not clean her room, and drag mounds of trash and clothes out of her car and leave them in our yard in full view of the judgey HOA president,” I said.

“No.  What is her enticement to negotiate?  Has she been asking for anything lately?”

tmz.com

“Well, she is quite the Belieber and wants to meet J.B., but he probably can’t talk right now with his foot stuck so far in his mouth.  Um. . . she wants me to stop stalking George Clooney on her laptop when mine’s dead, Usher and Shakira to tweet her back, and an iPhone.”

“That’s it!” she said.  “An iPhone is doable, and the swag factor is substantial.” 

Hmmm, my daughter’s old flip phone WAS broken.  It was basically useless because all it could do was make calls.  Perfect.  I was ready to negotiate like Tiger Woods in divorce court.

I presented her with the rubber band/iPhone proposition, and her braces were off in three weeks.

Now my struggle is cajoling her to wear her retainer.  I think it’s time for another bribe.  Although, “bribe” is such an ugly word.

justjared.com

I prefer “extortion.”  That sounds like I should be wearing a black dress and sunglasses, holding a martini and a briefcase full of money, waiting to meet an international man of intrigue.  And he would be swarthy and dressed in black too and . . . wait.  This isn’t the appropriate time to bring up my virtual vignettes with George Clooney.  

Maybe my creativity didn’t dry up during the “Tinkle Targets” phase after all. 

Breaking News: David Beckham replaces Siri in New iPhone for Middle-Aged Moms

I love Siri, the gal that lives in my smart phone. She’s like a human BFF because she’s learning to read my mind.

We’ve been together a few months, and she already understands me when I say “fixin’ to”  in my southern drawl and doesn’t even reassign text when I type “dad-gum,” as in, “the dad-gum autocorrect.”    

True “artificial intelligence” is on the horizon for her. When that glorious unveiling day comes, I’ll be the first geek pitching my Star Wars tent in front of the Apple store four days in advance, pacing my bathroom breaks during business hours, and explaining how Steve Jobs was just misunderstood to the TV reporter covering the ballyhoo. 

cbsnews.com

I predict that when the hi-tech deities breathe human intellect into Siri’s soul, I’ll be able to change Siri into a male personal helper. I think I’ll name him Remi. He’ll be able to tell me where my car keys are in a British, David Beckham voice, without dragging up everything I’ve lost in the past six months. 

Remi will note my prior mistakes and notify me before I make more severe blunders, like buying Riesling instead of Chardonnay. And Apple will offer an “idiot-proof” package in which Remi will lovingly shut down his calling, texting and camera features when the user is tempted to “reach out” to anyone after multiple Patrón exploits.

tecca.com

When I lose the Post-it containing my Facebook password, Remi will tell me its location based on my personality, previous habits, and the fact that I’m a few fries short of a Happy Meal.  

In a buttery Beckham voice, Remi will say, “Since you’ve got a few chips missing from your nacho basket, darling, and you filed your last tax return in your glove compartment, then logic dictates that you’re using your password as a bookmark in your Fifty Shades of Grey hidden behind the dryer.”  

allaboutsportnew.blogspot.com

My charming Brit will obey without an argument. He won’t always have to be right and won’t make up stuff when he doesn’t know the answer. My alluring assistant will compliment me every five minutes and never ask me if I really think I should be having another cruller. And I won’t feel obligated to commit to him when he never gives me jewelry.

According to the book of Wikipedia, Apple will soon unveil a new phone specifically for Middle-Aged Moms (MAMs) (Whopping-Humongous font sold separately). Engineers will enable Siri to comprehend schizoid thought patterns and send the user encouraging texts after it detects prolonged ranting with a dangerous rise in blood pressure.

Apple will be running “girls night out” TV ads based on the fact that the MAM demographic is motivated chiefly by chocolate and “Bacardium Limbus,” which is Latin for “alcoholic drink that may induce limbo.”

But the pièce de résistance of the new MAM phone will be Siri’s “BFF” butler service. It will call in a prescription for Prozac when your Wi-Fi is not syncing, and, like a true friend, it will even surprise you occasionally by spontaneously downloading books to your iPad—like your own secret copy of Fifty Shades of Grey.