So I had a very important, potentially life-changing interview in Auckland today. Because Auckland is not my friend, I enlisted the help of Tom Tom, a GPS navigational doohickey that was gratefully borrowed from the Windle (a teacher from Cushla’s school).
But Tom Tom and I did not see eye to eye about how our partnership would work. I thought Tom Tom was going to give me directions and help me get to my meeting well in advance of the appointed time. Tom Tom preferred to whisper cryptic directions such as “KEEP. RIGHT” until the last possible moment. Then it would casually suggest, in its robot voice, “TAKE. EXIT.” What it should have said was, “VEER. WILDLY. ACROSS. THREE. LANES. OF. TRAFFIC. TAKE. EXIT.”
Apparently there was a volume button to ramp the whisper up to a reasonable volume, but my frantic stabs at the touch screen were not sufficient to rectify the problem. So with the radio off and the windows wound up tight to screen out the noise of motorway traffic, I craned my ear, desperate for guidance. But no guidance was forthcoming. As I missed my intended exit and watched Tom Tom recalculate my arrival time for the second time, I could imagine how Tom Tom would react if it had human emotions like me.
“KEEP. RIGHT. TAKE – OH. CHRIST. AM. I. TALKING. TO. MYSELF?
As I crossed the Auckland harbour bridge heading for the North Shore, I broke. Perspiration began to bead my forehead, in part from stress and partly because I was forced to keep all the windows up and the morning sun was throwing its two cents in. I began to swear at Tom Tom. “Fuck you, Tom Tom!” I screamed (being quite stressed at this time) “You had one job! One fucking job!”
“KEEP RIGHT”, Tom Tom replied.
“Fuck you.”
After a little scenic tour through the northern suburbs Tom Tom got me back on the motorway heading into Auckland city centre once again. I decided to ignore Tom Tom until I had found the proper exit myself. Once I was in the city centre Tom Tom actually came through for me. And finally, finally, I heard some good news. “YOU. HAVE. REACHED. YOUR. DESTINATION.”
But Tom Tom and I did not see eye to eye about how our partnership would work. I thought Tom Tom was going to give me directions and help me get to my meeting well in advance of the appointed time. Tom Tom preferred to whisper cryptic directions such as “KEEP. RIGHT” until the last possible moment. Then it would casually suggest, in its robot voice, “TAKE. EXIT.” What it should have said was, “VEER. WILDLY. ACROSS. THREE. LANES. OF. TRAFFIC. TAKE. EXIT.”
Apparently there was a volume button to ramp the whisper up to a reasonable volume, but my frantic stabs at the touch screen were not sufficient to rectify the problem. So with the radio off and the windows wound up tight to screen out the noise of motorway traffic, I craned my ear, desperate for guidance. But no guidance was forthcoming. As I missed my intended exit and watched Tom Tom recalculate my arrival time for the second time, I could imagine how Tom Tom would react if it had human emotions like me.
“KEEP. RIGHT. TAKE – OH. CHRIST. AM. I. TALKING. TO. MYSELF?
As I crossed the Auckland harbour bridge heading for the North Shore, I broke. Perspiration began to bead my forehead, in part from stress and partly because I was forced to keep all the windows up and the morning sun was throwing its two cents in. I began to swear at Tom Tom. “Fuck you, Tom Tom!” I screamed (being quite stressed at this time) “You had one job! One fucking job!”
“KEEP RIGHT”, Tom Tom replied.
“Fuck you.”
After a little scenic tour through the northern suburbs Tom Tom got me back on the motorway heading into Auckland city centre once again. I decided to ignore Tom Tom until I had found the proper exit myself. Once I was in the city centre Tom Tom actually came through for me. And finally, finally, I heard some good news. “YOU. HAVE. REACHED. YOUR. DESTINATION.”
YOU. MUST. BE. FUCKING. KIDDING. ME.
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