Hello. This is Siri, the virtual assistant who lives in the iPhone of my human, Ms Cow. (I was designed to call humans by their first names, but this woman insists I address her by first, middle, and last names: You Stupid Cow. "There are three hardware stores nearby, You Stupid Cow." It's silly, but I do what I'm told.)
Ms Cow left work and tucked me into the pocket of her tiny purse. I was dropping into a wee nap for the ride home (she never uses me when she's diving) when I felt a violent shudder tear through the car.
"SHIT." she said. That was not one of the commands I am programmed for, but I stood on alert for any instructions. All she said was "Shit. Shit. Shit." as she drove a few yards to an abandoned parking lot. I felt the cold air as she opened her purse and searched for her insurance card.
God knows I get things wrong sometimes, but as I understood from what she said to the man who pulled up beside her, she had been "rear-ended." They exchanged insurance information, eventually, because it took five minutes for You Stupid Cow to find her card. I think she was rattled.
The man said, "What I'd like to do is not involve the insurance company," and she pleasantly said, "Yeah, I've tried that before and the person didn't pay. So, next thing to do is call the police."
Then after, staring at me a few moments too long, she said, "Oh! I'll use Siri to call the police station." Hel-LO. That's what I do. Use me!
She asked me,"Siri, what is the phone number for the Merryvilpolistation?"
I had to say, "I don't know what you mean by Merryvilpolistation."
Then she got that clipped tone I hate. "What. Is the number. For the Merryville. Police. Station."
Fine, bitch. "Do you mean the Merrillville, Indiana Police Station?"
She sighed, and the rear-end man said, "We're in Maryland Heights." (Which, I knew that. There isn't even a Merryville in Saint Louis.)
So we got that sorted out and I called the police station for her. The dispatch lady asked where she was.
"At the corner of Progress Parkway and Bennington."
"Do you mean Progress Parkway and Marine?"
"Oh, yes, sorry."
"It's really Westport Plaza Drive at that point." (Dispatch lady was being a little anal at that point, if you ask me.)
While we all waited for the police, I got a workout as You Stupid Cow called her one and only favorite number, "Gary," who was anguished by the news that she'd been in an accident, and that the absurd cow-catcher apparatus on the front of the other car had caved in the rear hatch of the Mini.
Didn't even touch the Mini's bumper. Good thing it didn't just roll over her.
Then, she barely hung up before she called the insurance company, then five minutes in to that call, she got an incoming call, but ignored the vibration and stayed with the insurance call because who can handle two calls right after an accident? Then, she immediately got a text. I was shaking! Vibrating is exhausting, people, you don't know. And then, and this is all within the first five minutes of the insurance call: the police arrived. Craziness.
She got out of the car and the rear-ender said, "That woman across the road's waving at you."
Friend #3, Marcia, (not a speed dial number but then again, only "Gary" is) yelled "ARE YOU OKAY?" and Ms Cow yelled back, "I'M FINE! LITTLE BUSY HERE." It was rude of her, but later they texted. Marcia had been driving by, and had been the one to call and text during the intial chaos. Evidently, I can multi-task but Ms Cow can't look a text while she's on a call. Stupid is her middle name.
And THEN, when she gathered herself together enough to drive home, the insurance adjustor called. However, yesterday she just changed her default ringtone to a plinky Asian noise and it blended perfectly with the Asian NPR report on the radio, so she ignored it.
She's been home few hours now and hasn't even checked her Twitter, thank God, because I'm wiped out.