Some may call it
convenient. I call it creepy, spooky and
weird.
And unwelcome.
Okay.
When it happens once it’s a coincidence. But what is it when it happens four times in
a row?
A “Quadra-coincidence”?
A mystery? Or – since it emanates
from my cell phone – an unsolicited “app” that kicked in totally on its own?
You tell me, as I
am utterly befuddled.
Here is it.
I take Lyft. (Since my Lexus
went “bye-bye”, legally preceded by my license to drive it.)
Saturday mornings, I have a pilates class, the studio
located at 3734 Motor Avenue, in semi-far Culver City. Ready to go, I tap the Lyft “app” to get the transportational ball rolling. The “app” pops to life, its understandable
first question:
“Where are you going?”
At the bottom of my screen, there is a list of destinations
to which I have previously Lyfted. Dozens of destinations. Dozens, I tell you. Dozens!
Okay, there are ten.
But that’s not the point. The
point is the following.
Showing prominently at the top, the very first listed
destination:
“3734 Motor Avenue.”
The pilates studio address.
How did that happen?
How did my phone know it was Saturday? Okay, there’s a calendar. But it actually knew where I was going? I could be going anywhere. My phone says,
“No, it’s ‘pilates.’”
Okay, it’s a “Saturday habit.” Mine, not my cell phone’s. Which my cell phone “mathematically” picked
up.
But what about this one?
I have a doctor’s appointment. I tap the Lyft
“app.”
“Where are you going?”
And before I type the appropriate address – 1301 20th
Street – first on my “Destinations List”:
“1301 20th Street.”
I have – God knows – more than one doctor. How did my phone know which one I was seeing? Wait!
How did it know I was seeing a doctor at all?
You could almost feel the thing gloating. Signaling my startled reaction, it was
telling my Kindle, “Watch this!”
So that’s two. Now…
Due to some geriatric affliction, I am required to have
regular pedicures. Not consistent. Every two weeks, every three weeks. Whenever my toenails go “Ow!”
It is now time to see Nancy.
I tap Lyft.
“Where are you going?”
Nancy’s address, at the top of the list.
“We know your
toenails.”
How?
Last one. Maybe the
creepiest.
I have recently mentioned a surprise family “Photo
Shoot.” Suddenly – not predictable, not
regularly scheduled – I need a pre-“Photo Shoot” haircut. I tap Lyft.
“Where are you going?”
Topping the list: “Matthew
Preece Hair Salon.”
Come on! I didn’t
even know I was getting a haircut. How
did my cell phone?
Is it some kind of algorithm, the tip of my finger emitting
varying “messages”, from “Doctor” to
“Haircut”, “Pedicure” to “Pilates”?
I understand the convenience, my cell phone preemptively “reading my mind.”
I understand the convenience, my cell phone preemptively “reading my mind.”
But how does it do
that?
And who asked it to?
All I know is if I tap Lyft
and the St. John’s Hospital Emergency
Room jumps to the top,
I’m throwing it away.
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