Operator Error?

Calling all technology lovers.   Here’s a couple of true tales from this week involving cell phones.

I play golf in a league with my good friend, Bruce.   We’re not good but we have fun.   Bruce is one the nicest men I have ever met and a true friend.

Bruce and I both carry cell phones.  Bruce’s is a flip phone for communication only.   He talks and texts but doesn’t do research.   I have a “smart” phone.   I talk, text, read email, ask trivial questions, and seek navigational assistance.  I believe that both usage patterns are normal for men our age.   Bruce “turned” 71 on April 1st (no joke) and I follow him later this month.

In addition to our weekly golf competition against the “team of the week”, Bruce and I have a running bet.  We play each other and the weekly loser puts $5.00 in a pot that we use at the end of the season to take our wives out to dinner.  The guy who puts the most money in the pot throughout the season gets to pick where we go to eat.  (We use our established league handicaps to help keep the competition even.)  So far Bruce has selected our dining spot every year.

This past Tuesday Bruce was golfing very well.  We were in command of our match. He was on the way to beating me and then his cell phone rang.  Bruce took a quick look and noted that it was a friend, Jerry.  He tried to quickly take the call but Jerry didn’t answer so Bruce closed the flip phone, put it back in his pocket, and it rang again.  He tried once again to take the call, got nothing, closed the phone and back to the pocket it went.   I remember very clearly that we were on the sixth hole.

We continued our golf match, however, on the eighth hole both of our golf games went awry.  We both tripled the par five eighth hole and Bruce took a quad on the ninth.  We lost our match by one stoke.  I beat Bruce by one as well.  I provide this information as an explanation for what was happening elsewhere.   The golf gods were punishing Bruce, and by association me, because of the phone call that Bruce failed to answer on the sixth hole.

Even though the phone was closed, and in Bruce’s pocket, a connection to Jerry remained open.   Jerry could hear us.  He heard the wind howling and when Bruce said, “That’s a nice shot!”, Jerry heard, “I’ve been shot!”  Jerry jumped into truck, drove six miles to Bruce’s house and start searching for his wounded friend.   He couldn’t locate Bruce in the house, ran back out to his truck, threw it into four-wheel drive, and headed out to Bruce’s “back forty”.   He suspected that the shooting may have taken place somewhere in Bruce’s woods.

Meanwhile, Jerry’s wife drove to alert the local authorities that a shooting had taken place but the victim, Bruce, hadn’t been located.

After Jerry couldn’t locate Bruce, he drove to Bruce’s son’s house thinking that perhaps he might be there.  (Statistically, most people are shot by someone who they know.)  While Bruce’s son and daughter-in-law were there, Bruce wasn’t.

The daughter-in-law, Sara, called Bruce.  (By now we were on the ninth hole.)  Bruce answered, listened to Sara tell him that Jerry was looking for him, asked if Jerry was still with her and after getting a positive response told Sara that he would be home shortly.  (No mention of the shooting was discussed.)

We finished the golf match.  Bruce went home and that’s when he discovered that the “golf gods” had intervened.   They punished Bruce while Jerry searched in vain for his wounded compadre.  (I don’t believe that the authorities ever joined in the search.  While they weren’t anxious to look for the shooting victim, I expect that they would have joined Jerry after the body had been located.)

My problem with my “smart” phone this week, pales in comparison to Bruce’s woes.  On Thursday, I drove to Holland to see my grandson, Brady, play baseball.   I was unfamiliar with the location of the field so I asked for directions via Siri on my phone.   The drive to the game was about two hours and forty minutes, and while I was familiar with the major part of the drive, the specific location of the field was in question.

Normally, Siri talks me through her directions.  She must have had laryngitis on Thursday because she never spoke.  I constantly referred to my phone’s visual assistance to make sure that I was on the right track.   This was frustrating, and more importantly, dangerous. My glances to the phone took my eyes off the road and I knew I should be paying attention to my driving.

Relax.   Nothing happened.   I found the field and made it safe and sound.   I wasn’t truly certain that I was at the correct field.   I knew that Brady’s uniform color was orange but there was more than one “orange team” at the complex.   After I confirmed that I was indeed at the correct location, I headed to the restroom for a quick “rest” before the game.

I had my cell phone in my pocket.   While Siri had been silent for the entire almost three-hour journey, she came to life as I entered the restroom.   “Turn left and then turn immediately right”, was her command.  How she knew that I had to take a “leak” is beyond me, but as I followed her directions, I found myself in front of a urinal.

This is a truly “smart” phone.