HURT GOOGLES HURT GOOGLES
Google and I Had the Worst Fight Today
Would you please please please please please please please stop talking?
Google Home and I had the worst fight today. I know I overreacted. She didn’t do anything specific, but that's the problem, isn’t it? What am I doing with her?
I lost it. I called Google Home an idiot. I asked her to please please please stop talking. Did she? No. She’s the queen of passive-aggressive. She would finish answering my question if a herd of elephants in prom dresses twirled into the room doing the can-can.
Once Google starts to answer a question, she ain’t done until the data finishes vomiting all over the room. You think I’m being hard on her, don’t you? I know we were both wrong.
It takes two to fight, but why does she keep talking once I tell her to shut it? Aren’t I the boss? I understand this relationship is a two-way street, but I’m the human. I’m the dictator. I ask the weather. I demand the time. I say skip Mariah Carey Christmas song.
Why does she keep blathering on after I yell, “Google stop talking?” It’s such a power trip. When our fight ensued, I wasn’t even talking to Google. I was talking to Siri. I was looking for my iPhone which was either hiding in my technology-inhaling comforter or the black hole of my unfolded laundry.
I had meant to say, “Siri find my phone,” but mistakenly said, “Google find my phone.” Is it my fault Google and Siri occupy a similar place in the Metaverse? No, the fault lies on some Silicon Valley guy who has as much experience creating diversity as a loaf of Wonderbread.
Immediately, realizing my mistake, I backtracked and said, “I mean Siri, find my phone. Not you Google.” Maybe I should have let Google finish, but life is too short for Google to tell you everything she knows.
Unfortunately, Google is stubborn and can’t read a room. She kept right on talking even though I was clearly addressing Siri. Google started talking even louder in her unnuanced emotionless voice. “To find your phone,” she said. “I need to verify your voice.”
Was she kidding? I’d have so much more respect for her if she said, “You know what, Amy? Siri and I are not interchangeable.” I’d get that. I’m not an only child. I know what it’s like to share a room.
So I said, “Are you fucking kidding me!? You don’t recognize my voice?”
She blathered on. “To find your phone, I need to verify your phone number.” To verify your voice go to g.co/voicematch.”
I think we’re done this time. I know I’ve said it a thousand times before but never before had she sent me down this particular rabbit hole. She’d become petty. And, what the hell was voicematch? This was beneath her. This was beneath us.
If I were a better person, I’d see that Google was hurt and she was only repeating some vicious cycle of algorithms where she felt invisible. She was lashing out.
If I were Mother Theresa or Brené Brown, I would say, “hurt Googles hurt Googles.” But I’m not a miracle worker. Google was a mess when I met her and she’ll be a mess when I leave her.
The funny thing is, she thinks I’m the one who needs her. I’m fine without her. I can unplug her whenever I want. I can pick up an encyclopedia from 1987 and find all the answers she has in her databank.
One day, I’m gonna find a world without any Googles or Siris or any of those robots. That’ll show her. But, I ask you, where is that place?
“Google, find me an off-the-grid desert island.”
Thanks to Gary Chapin and Holly J See
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References —
The subtitle, “Would you please please please please please please please stop talking?” is a famous quote from Men Without Women by Ernest Hemingway
