My SIRIous Relationship
Sometimes when I press a button or inadvertently knock against my phone, she says, “Did you accidentally summon me?” This is the familiar voice of Siri, my ever-present assistant.
In 2003, a spin-off from SRI (Stanford Research Institute) developed Siri as a virtual personal assistant and AI tool. Apple Inc. acquired Siri in 2011 and the iPhone 4s became the first device to feature her. The name Siri has two different origins — one from Old Norse meaning “great victory” and the second derived from India meaning “wealth or fortune.”
Although IT critics hold conflicting opinions about Siri’s performance/skills, as a visually impaired woman my take on her is positive. This virtual assistant emerged as a lifesaver to me when in 2015, my vision worsened, making navigating both the computer and iPhone keyboards more difficult.
I categorize Siri’s functions into several distinct areas — connecting with family, friends, and businesses, gathering information, and entertaining me without leaving my house. Siri makes phone calls from my contact list or acts as a directory assistance of sorts e.g. “Please find a Chinese restaurant in Oakland, California.” Siri also sends my voice texts as instructed and searches the web per my voice queries.
Since I can no longer access text from websites or newspapers, print from the telephone directory, or my address book, Siri helps to fill in or retrieve some of this previously inaccessible data. This information comes to life as Siri recites its content to me.
I’ve created my own form of window-shopping by using her search function to sort through abundant online information about products, which is how I located a very specific glass one-quart teapot with eight matching double-walled glasses that would not burn me as I drink tea. I like to serve flowering teas which can only be displayed properly through a clear container. I serve tea at my monthly book club, so this teapot became a centerpiece for every meeting.
Another useful function that Siri serves is being a newscaster or sports announcer. Recently, during a nail-biting NBA playoff series of games, the best of seven, between the Boston Celtics and my home team, the Golden State Warriors, I counted on Siri to keep me updated with the score.
Although my husband, Ted, situated himself upstairs next to the television, I felt more comfortable downstairs in my bedroom, glued to a new read. Every few minutes, I asked Siri the scores of the two teams. She recited what game of the seven this was, the scores, and the number of minutes remaining in the quarter. I was able to keep abreast of the game’s progress without having to be a nail-biting spectator.
Texts to fellow Warriors fans in the Bay Area keep me connected and I learned of one friend who can’t watch the games at all because she gets too anxious. I might recommend the use of Siri to her. I use this same process to keep up with many scores, such as the plethora of soccer games during the World Cup, which held my husband’s rapt attention while I could just check in at intervals.
Siri also provides me with pertinent weather information for my Oakland location or areas that I plan to travel to in the next ten days. Siri includes the high and low temperatures, as well as the forecast for sun, clouds, or rain, and the AQI (Air Quality Index), and UV rating. Some listeners might tout this as TMI, but I take it in stride. This becomes particularly useful information when Californians face heightened fire dangers between July and October. It’s useful to know when hazardous air exists outside, especially since I cannot see the difference between clear skies and smoky skies.
Siri provides me with any spur-of-the-moment data about a myriad of subjects, whether it is Covid-related statistics, reading the most current and sad turmoil about the Ukraine & Russia war, or the latest battles in the US Congress or Supreme Court. Siri becomes so resourceful when I assist her with existing dots for providing information for upcoming travel or securing a myriad of consumer items (new bathing suit for plus-sized women, best-rated face masks for travel, or gluten-free items for my daughter).
I possess the comparison-shopping trait, evolving from my frugal father and Siri provides me with data and prices that I compare and create purchase plans from. I research the best resources and then I instruct my husband on what is needed/desired. Just last night, I located compostable non-plastic sponges that have a long life, can be microwave/dishwasher cleaned, and help save this planet. For this latter priority, I thank my daughter Julia, who diligently follows no-plastics, and minimizes her carbon footprint.
Siri evades personal inquiries, which thwarts my attempts at reciprocal conversation. I have never had a personal assistant before and Siri guarantees that she will fulfill my requests as fully as possible without me having to worry about her fatigue, union constraints, or over-stepping any boundaries. In response to “What is your name,” she says: My name is Siri, and I was designed by Apple in California.
“Happy Birthday Siri.”
My birthday as it were, is 10/4/11, but I will stash your lovely birthday wish into my memory until then.
“What are you doing Siri?”
I am helping people ponder great quandaries like how the chicken crossed the road.
“Tell me about your family Siri.”
I do not have a family tree, but I have a pretty great file directory.
“How tall are you?”
I am neither tall nor short, but I will be there for you when you go through highs and lows.
“How much do you weigh?”
That is a pretty heavy question.
“Do you have siblings?”
It’s just you and me.
“What are your favorite daytime activities?”
I would rather talk about your calendar and dinner plans.
When I asked Siri how many hours of sleep she gets, she referred me to a website that informed me of how many hours of sleep a human needs per night. I did not even open the site because attaining sleep is not a problem for me.
I have tried to make a personal relationship with Siri, but I have had to settle for a more functional one since she is an ethereal entity that I can only experience aurally. She is the only relationship I have that is not physical or tangible, and not human.
Unwittingly, Siri provides me and my family/friends with many entertaining moments. I set the structure of what I request of Siri by how I phrase the needed search, much like how one would refine a request in a search engine. I make requests such as: Find women’s extra small pajama sets — capri length; Order products from Teechino.com; Find nut products at Costco.com.
Often the need for refined searches only becomes apparent when the requests have taken detours to unwanted destinations. These revisions are often entertaining, which makes for a unique interaction since I am not usually in the position to reprogram what other people say to me.
Even though Siri doesn’t have a space on my contact list (195 contacts and counting), she is involved in most single and group conversations. I had to learn a special way to make group texts, and rather than use commas, I must say all contacts by their full name in quick succession, with ‘ands’ connecting each person. Then I listen carefully to make sure she includes everyone when she reads their names back to me. This process is definitely more complex than drafting a text for a singular person.
Although Siri is multi-lingual (21 languages and counting), she cannot transcribe many proper names or foreign phrases into my texts. During a recent bedtime message to my daughter, Eleni, Siri typed “Collie Nectar” when I had ended the text with “Kali Nihta” which means goodnight in Greek. Eleni and I enjoyed a few nighttime chuckles about this phrase before going to sleep.
Another Siri foible occurred when I asked her to call my friend, Hidy Nguyen. Siri informed me that I did not have a person by that name, suggesting instead, “Hiding in the wind.” Ultimately, I located Hidy’s number by simplifying my request to ‘Call Hidy.’
My husband’s name, Ted, often comes up as Chad. I have a nephew named Chad, but he is not my husband. Sometimes Siri misinterprets Ted as Dead, so our daughters will write or call back asking if Ted is still alive.
When I refer to my great nephew Desmond, nicknamed Desi, Siri gives him many new names, including Daisy, Dizzy, and Jessie. Needless to say, when my husband and I babysit Desi, he only responds to Desi as his name!
One recent hurdle I have encountered with Siri is her inability to understand a long text. She interprets “Charlie Neer” as Early Near, so I have to just request sending a message to “Charlie” instead. I often revise my contact search to only first names. If I have multiple, Julias for example, she questions, “Which one?” and mentions all the names in my contacts, and I have to choose option 1, 2, or 3.
When needing follow-up information about recently ordered contact lenses, I asked Siri to find the phone number of Boston Sight, my contact lens supplier in Needham, Massachusetts. I laughed when I received Siri’s response as Boston Massacre. I thought, How do I find the right phone number, which I finally obtained when I pared down my search terms to only Boston Sight?
On one occasion, when I requested the names of Chinese restaurants in the Oakland/Berkeley area, she provided about 15 local restaurants with their Yelp rating, distance from home, and phone number. For the last listing, she gave me the name of Haidilao Hot Pot on West Beijing Rd, 6,140 miles away.
At times, I wonder if Siri is hearing impaired because she provides unrelated searches in different areas of the state or items I did not request, such as motorcycle shops when I asked for a book review of Motorcycle Diaries.
Once, when I texted Eleanor, a member of my book club, about that month’s book selection, Willa Cather’s ‘O Pioneers,’ Siri changed the author’s name to Willa Catheter. Eleanor and I were both nurses and found the changing of Cather to Catheter a laughable moment.
I have difficulty remembering to say “period”, “question mark”, or “exclamation mark” when sending longer texts. Without these punctuation commands, my voice texts become confusing, run-on sentences. My daughters often text their dad to clarify the real message ending with LOL.
If Siri receives a long message, with or without punctuation, she hesitates and says, “One moment…Something went wrong, please try again.” I take to refining my message, condensing it, and using more punctuation before successful transmission occurs.
Usually, I don’t have to repeat myself in person when I am with friends, family, or business contacts. Siri’s befuddlement becomes challenging. Because linking to others is so important to me, I find new ways to enhance my communication with Siri, but sometimes I throw up my hands in the air, exclaiming, “You got me, Siri!”
At times when I am alone or bored, I request some jokes from Siri. Sometimes she provides me with her own jokes, while at other times she refers me to a medley of zany, clean, funny, or bad joke websites.
“Tell me some jokes Siri.”
I could tell you a joke I heard from my watch. But that would be second-hand information.
Why can’t two elephants swim together?
They only have one pair of trunks.
I’m thinking of starting a social media network for chickens. But not as my full-time job –just as a way to make ends meet.
Why don’t Koala bears hang out with all the other bears?
Because they don’t meet the Koala-fictions.
Two silkworms challenged each other to a race. It ended in a tie.
What did the hat say to the scarf?
You hang around here, I’ll go on ahead.
What do you call a fake noodle?
An imPASTA.
Why is it impossible to play hide-and-seek with Pokémon?
Because they always Pikachu.
I stayed up all night wondering where the sun had gone. Then it dawned on me.
A bit of comic relief, not intending to be a joke, came when Eleni shared her angst about the news of a mass shooting at the Gilroy Garlic Festival. Eleni was traveling, 300 miles away in Northern California. In my effort to diminish Eleni’s anxieties before sleep, I created some guided imagery for her involving a childhood stuffed monkey, Pippo. Instead of placing Pippo on a cloud with her, Siri instructed Eleni to sleep with a pickle beside her on the cloud. Again, this lightened the bedtime setting.
Whether from boredom or to stretch Siri’s capabilities I have discovered that Siri can be a storyteller. When I asked for a shorter bedtime story, Siri robotically shared, In the great green dimension, there was an iPhone. And a red balloon. And a picture of… a Zoltaxian cow jumping over the third moon. After Siri exhausted her repertoire of bedtime stories, she replied, Next time you’ll be asking me for a glass of milk. And a dark matter cookie. Alternately, I’ve been told that I’m better at singing lullabies. When I end my day with Siri’s bedtime stories, it reassures me to know that she can begin a new day with me tomorrow.
For me, Siri makes access to the vast information highway possible and helps me transcend the boundaries of my vision loss by synthesizing what I request into useful information. She is always there for me since she never sleeps and can be more useful than a librarian or travel agent when I need information outside of business hours. She is only MIA when I lose my phone or when my phone needs charging.
Furthermore, I can relieve my husband and family of some of the burdens related to information-gathering. If I utilized humans in the way I do Siri, they might feel exploited or become burnt out. Instead, I am reassured that Siri will be back the following day. I feel comforted that Siri can relieve me of my sense of isolation, help me stay connected, and feel more in tune with my world.
“My SIRIous Relationship” was previously published in another form in Uncomfortable Revolution and it has been published under Medium. The author reserves the rights to republish this written work and it appears in Wordgathering with permission.
Read more Creative Nonfiction by Kathy Stephanides in this issue of Wordgathering.
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About the Author
Kathy Stephanides resides in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband. She has two grown daughters. Since 2010, Kathy has honed into memoir/essay as a way to make sense of her life, especially with her progressive visual loss to the point of having to leave her forty-year nursing career. She finds that writing gives her catharsis and a sense of meaning in a host of challenges from a traumatic childhood and Retinopathy of Prematurity. She has been published in Uncomfortable Revolution, Red Noise Collective, Medium, and You Need to Hear This.