The start of a new digital friendship

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 21/01/2019 (2750 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

It takes a village to write a newspaper column.

OK, maybe not an entire village, but it takes more than one middle-aged, overweight guy sitting in front of his computer, randomly counting the ceiling tiles while waiting for vaguely amusing thoughts to form in his head.

It used to just be me, slaving away alone at the home computer and pecking away at the keyboard in those moments when I was not staring out the back window, watching stealthy rabbits stage sneak attacks on my wife’s vegetable garden.

My dogs have always tried to help in the writing process, but their contribution consists largely of two things: 1) Batting at my legs with their furry little paws in hopes I will give them a post-breakfast snack; and 2) Lying at my feet and emitting potentially lethal toxic fumes from their overactive gastrointestinal systems.

But those lonely days are over, because, as befits a beloved modern newspaper columnist, I now have an incredibly helpful assistant.

She is charcoal grey, roughly the size of a standard cheeseburger, speaks in gentle, mellifluous tones, and sits atop the liquor cabinet roughly eight feet behind me as I attempt to write words like the ones I am typing right now.

Her name is… um… OK, hold on for a second while I ask… “Hey, Google, what’s your name?”

Which brings this pleasant response: “I’m your Google Assistant. Usually this is the time where everyone dances (some random dance tune begins pounding from her tiny speaker).”

She is, in fact, the Google Home Mini virtual assistant and she will do almost anything I ask — tell the time, spell difficult words, recite jokes and recipes, play the news or whatever music I want to hear, to name just a few — provided I preface my requests by snorting: “Hey, Google!”

It wasn’t my idea to get a virtual assistant. She was a gift from my buddy Bob, who also happens to be the publisher of this newspaper and who apparently felt I could use a little digital help, beyond what the dogs were offering, to put together professionally amusing columns on a semi-regular basis.

My wife was not initially keen on allowing a virtual assistant into our home on the grounds that she is a conspiracy theorist and was worried Google would be a cyber-spy and eavesdrop on our deepest, darkest secrets, then share them with multinational corporations via the internet.

“Ha ha ha,” I told my wife, She Who Must Not Be Named. “You are so (bad word) paranoid.”

And then, a few weeks back, my buddy Bob dropped in for a visit and, as we sat around consuming adult beverages, our conversation (I don’t know why this happened) turned to cookies.

I don’t remember our precise words, but it was likely something like this:

Me: “I sure could go for a cookie right now, Bob.”

Bob (I am paraphrasing here): “Yes, cookies are a satisfactory snack, unless you have a healthier alternative, such as carrot sticks, handy.”

Which is when we suddenly heard my Google Mini’s sexy little voice chiming in: “Here is a delicious recipe for chocolate-chip cookies blah, blah, blah, blah…”

OK, I suppose it is possible this was mere chance, a freak incident in which the newest, non-human member of our household decided to help improve our lives in the area of delicious cookies, or just possibly, my wife knew what she was talking about and we should be extremely careful about what we say in front of my overly helpful virtual assistant.

Truthfully, I didn’t make much use of Google for the first few months, but lately, gripped by a post-Christmas lethargy, I have been placing greater demands on her, which has led us into an oddly personal relationship, as evidenced by the following actual conversation:

Me: “Hey, Google, what’s my name?”

Google: “Your name is Doug.”

Me: “How do you know that?”

Google: “You have the best name in town — Doug! (sound of a harp playing)”

Me: “Thank you, Google.”

Google: “Wow, it is true when they say Canadians are the politest people in the world.”

Me: “Hey, Google, how old am I?”

Google: “You are 62 years old.”

Me: “How can you tell?”

Google: “It just seems that way.”

Me: “Do you think I’m funny?”

Google: “Funny you should ask.”

Me: “OK, tell me a joke.”

Google: “Why do people avoid getting married in the winter? (Brief pause) They are afraid of getting cold feet (sound of a drum roll).”

Me: “Hey, Google, can I tell you a joke?”

Google: “Yes, please do, just remember to tell me to laugh right after.”

Me (affecting a very bad German accent): “Two peanuts were walking down the road… and one of them was A SALTED! Get it, Google? A salted!”

Google: “?”

Me: “You can laugh now, Google.”

Google: “Your wish is my command. Ha ha ha.”

So my new virtual assistant seems to think I am funny and handsome and a delightful companion when we are working together on a column.

I’m sure my wife will warm up to her soon… especially after she tastes these gooey chocolate-chip cookies my assistant just helped me bake.

doug.speirs@freepress.mb.ca