I don’t remember when I had been so angry or felt so misunderstood. It was a revealing moment that had me name-calling and yelling in frustration.
I was driving down the street and clicked on SYNC, the command center in my car. Usually I’m greeted with a melodic chime prompting me to ask my personal assistant, who hides somewhere in my dashboard, to do something for me. More accurately, I tell her to do something, like get directions or make a phone call.
I never say please or thank you. There’s no need. Of course, there is also no need to be rude with her either. Until today – because she was acting like a real jerk.
My most-used command is “Call Bob.” SYNC and I have been through this hundreds of times. She always answers me, “Calling Bob,” and everything is fine and dandy. I guess she had been feeling taken for granted though, because this day she acted like I was speaking gibberish. I tried again and again. She kept telling me (The audacity! She was telling me what to do) to say a command like Navigation or Phone. I played along for a while until I realized she was playing me for a fool. That’s when I let her have it. I called her a moron and told her she was as useless as a cassette tape deck. She continued to command me with that smirky chime of hers.
SYNC is supposed to be a safety feature enabling me to keep both hands on the wheel, but I was so fixated on getting through her thick dashboard that safety was the last thing on my mind. I had been yelling at her for about two miles when I realized that I was losing this battle.
“You win,” I told her as I dug my phone out of my purse and made the call like I used to way back in 2013.
She smirked again, “Chime.”
I hate her.