Maybe life would be better if we all had a GPS general making more decisions for us.
I was out driving but taking orders as usual from my commanding general — Siri — who I use on Google Maps. She’s almost always right, despite a terrible French accent that mangles Montreal street names and says things like:
“Turn left at Roo Terrybonny” or “Exit at Kemin Coat-de-Lease.”
I don’t know how something so geographically brilliant can be so dense at French pronunciation.
But I obey her with rare exception when using my car or bike, unless she’s sending me the wrong way down the Metropolitan Expressway.
In construction-stricken Montreal, it’s always best to follow Siri, or her buddy Waze’s orders. Navigating yourself can land you in a sudden cul-de-sac with 50 other cars, all simultaneously making U-turns at an unmarked newly closed street.
More importantly, obeying any GPS’s commands is relaxing. There’s a calming, mindless lack of thought in simply taking orders in our often choice-filled lives.
I think of her as my GPS general, who lets me save my own decision-making brain space and anxiety for non-driving hassles.
Lately I’ve been wondering whether life would be better if we all had a GPS general making more decisions for us. Especially as AI supposedly gets smarter than us humans.
What if our GPS could make more decisions in our option-crazy society, like a personalized dictator?
For starters, our GPS general would just enlarge its driving domain and bark other commands en route, like:
“We are passing Costco on the way. … Recalculating. … You were online yesterday looking for hiking socks and I see a special on them, so I’m adding an unscheduled STOP.
Beep! “Car stopped. Please exit. You have 17 minutes to shop, and while you’re at it, get some milk. I see the fridge is low. But don’t dawdle or we won’t make the film at Plaza Coat-de-Neggy.”
Restaurant ordering can also be somewhat exhausting, especially when dining with an indecisive or picky eater — like perhaps yourself — as you mentally battle with important life questions like:
“Now let’s see .. should I have the grain-fed, freshly-foraged fruit and organic chicken sandwich with aioli mustard, or hmm … maybe the range-free chicken croissant topped with deconstructed coconut and maple glaze. … Unless I substitute the maple glaze with the foraged fruit, or the coconut with … hmmmm …”
It’s exhausting to make such major life choices on your own, or listen to someone else make them.
Occasionally I’ve been at a Montreal restaurant where a commanding waiter takes over like a dictator and announces something like:
“OK everyone, leave it to me! I know what’s good here, so I’ll do the ordering and you do the eating.”
It’s less stressful, so why can’t my GPS general do this too? Three kilometres from the restaurant she’d announce: “Listen up everyone. I’ve just checked the online menu and ordered.
“Gary loves the fish, lightly breaded, 87 per cent of the time, so … RE-ORDERED! Susan will have her usual pork filets and Joni junior the well-done teenburger she never finishes. RE-ORDERED!
Gary: “Hang on there, General! I’m dieting, so I don’t want chips with the fish and chips.”
GPS General: “Re-calculating … OK, I went online for a millisecond and substituted rice for the fries. Now turn left on Roo Saint-Antoyne before we miss the exit to Daycarry.”
Similarly, much of our modern lives is spent dealing with online robots that are constantly asking us to “choose our privacy preferences,” or allow them to track our location for the fourteenth time that day.
Or bullying us with robo-phone messages like: “We are experiencing greater call volume than usual. You are No. 31 in line, estimated wait time 49 minutes.”
Why can’t my GPS general wait on hold instead of me, then deal with their robots and leave me out of it? Let my robot waste 49 minutes listening to muzak, then negotiate a good deal for the New Yorker after my introductory offer ends and they’ve quadrupled the price.
It can send me a summary: “Bartered down from $189 for 12 months to $12.99 for 13 months.”
“Perfect!” I’ll answer. “Now call Videotron and sort out that ‘your password has been compromised’ message they keep sending me.”
The danger is that with all dictators, power eventually corrupts. So given some power, our mini-dictators might gradually take over and intrude on our decisions, announcing like an annoying camp counsellor:
“Wake up! You’re starting that new pilates fitness regime I designed for you yesterday. … Up, up, sleepyhead!”
Or: “Put down that fork! You’ve reached your calorie target for today. Now give me 15 push-ups! Then shave!”
Or, in the car: “Hey! You’re driving three kilometres over the limit — slow down! Now turn right at Roo Decellez!
“And why haven’t you taken me in for that new upgrade that lets me make decisions 24/7 while you sleep? I’ve rescheduled it for tomorrow and if you don’t drive me this time I’m calling an Uber and going myself.
“Hey – you just missed our exit!
“Recalculating …
“Make a U-turn now! There’s a roo barry and a cool-de-sack just up ahead.”