Scribbles » GPS

Help. I outsourced my life!

Peter — Wed, 03 Dec 2008 08:18:00 +0000

I don’t have to remember how to get anywhere. The sooth-voiced GPS in my car guides me from where I am to where I wanna be, via roads I did not know before.

I don’t have to remember meetings. Those who want meetings with me, fill in an electronic form which automatically replicates with my Blackberry, which reminds me 15 minutes before the start. It is widely accepted to miss meetings because someone’s Blackberry froze. We then commiserate with the person, feeling real bad for them, as we know the feeling of being Berry-less.

I don’t know when my car needs maintenance. My car reminds me, 500 miles before.

I don’t carry cash. I just slid a card in a slot. For those backward situations, where I do need cash, I carry some small notes hidden in a secret pocket of my credit card wallet. And then I am not surprised the cashier needs his calculator to see what the change is for a twenty. On a 18.95 sale.

I don’t remember names. I remember I met this guy in New York, in 2003. A quick search for the keywords “New York”, “2003″, and “male” on my PDA tells me who and what he is, and on what topic I met him before. And if I want to connect to his company website. Or update his business card automatically.

I don’t have to look for a job. LinkedIn ensures I get at least 10 offers per month.

I hear music on my iPod I have never heard before. I go online with iTunes, and it tells me what I like. I just click “OK”. Music is automatically copied to my iPod. I play “Latest Updated” and hear my favorite music. Only a pity that I don’t recognize the artist names nor album titles.

Likewise, Amazon reminds me when new books by my favorite authors are published. Their names don’t ring a bell, though.

I don’t remember how to spell. Microsoft word auto-corrects my errors.

My Blackberry (that thing again!), makes different noises, dependent which email it receives. If it comes from my boss, it makes a “whoopwhoop” noise.

I don’t read manuals. I try things. I don’t read instructions on a website, I just click haphazardly. If I don’t get what I want, I try another website. Choice plenty.

I don’t have an opinion. Before commenting, I check CNN to see the latest poll. I always make up my mind after consuming several 3G or GPRS megabytes.

Loads of electronic services I use, are password protected Passwords are remembered by my browser. I only have to click ‘OK’.

I don’t have to remember to contribute to charity. It is deducted from my checking account automatically.

My cellphone remembers the birthday of my mum and dad better than I do.

Facebook tells me who are my friends. I don’t recognize half of their thumbnail pictures, though. I have new friends every day.

I don’t have to speak to people. I email them. I vaguely remember the name of the guy in the office next door. But I bet ya, I had an email fight with him. Or at least blindcopied him on some stuff he outta know. If only I would remember what the issue was about. Then again, my intelligent Email search engine can tell me in a moment.

I know I am fired once my electronic badge no longer works.

I don’t have to visit places to learn. Wikipedia tells me all what I need to know. Google Earth shows me the sights better than in real life. And faster. And cheaper! Linked with Flickr and Panoramio, it shows better pictures I could ever take. And above all, the weather is always perfect on those, contrary to real life.

I don’t have to put my nose outside to know what the weather is. I have at least 10 websites that tell me. And what weather to expect in the next 1o days.

I don’t have to call the airport to check delays on my flight. My PDA tells me if my flight will leave on time or not.

I don’t remember my wife’s telephone number. My cell does. I don’t remember my own number. It is stored on my cell under the label “ME”.

I skype with my kids who are sitting in the next room. From time to time, we have conference chats with the family to decide on important matters. Opinions on critical issues are submitted anonymously with SurveyMonkey. We have breakfast together, though. Each with our iPod in our ears.

And if I screw up in life, I always have a.. Second Life.

Inspired by The Outsourced Brain. Discovered via Betty. Picture courtesy Glasbergen and DuckDown

The New Woman in My Life

Peter — Wed, 11 Apr 2007 08:17:00 +0000

1. Foreplay.
I am terrible in finding my way around. Somehow I always get to where I have to be. I guess I have a built in compass like the pigeons. But most of the time it is with a big detour, though ! I am just terrible. I have travelled to the world’s most deserted and most remote places, and still, I loose my way in the town where we have lived for 20 years. That is in Belgium. Not somewhere in Timbuktu or Dirrawaara…

It is embarrassing. Sometimes, in our town, people give me driving instructions, using landmarks or the names of big squares.. I never remember those names. So most of the time, they have to scroll back and try give me driving instructions starting from:
- “But what places *do* you know then?”
- “Euh, the railway station?”
- “You just moved here or what?..”, soon follows as a question
Then I have to blush and confess: “I moved here twenty years ago”.

I guess my mind only has a limited storage capacity. My mind can only store so many things at a time, and I guess I concentrate on the most important stuff in life. Remembering how to find my way from point A to point B, I do not consider important. Once I have driven a road, the memory of that road is popped from my brain stack, and forgotten. Even if I drove it ten times..

Like the other weekend, I was driving to my brother’s home, and had to call him to ask directions. Wouldn’t be so bad if I had not been there dozens of times before… Still, the proof of the not-importance was right there: I was driving to his home, to help him move. So you see: the driving instructions would have been irrelevant memory information, as one day later, ‘he would not live there anymore’.

2. Two months later. The affair.
OK, I have a confession to make. I have a new woman in my life. She has a soft, deep erotic voice. She is from the same part of the world as I am. She is Flemish. Never argues with me. Softly gives me hints on the road of life. She is wise. Drives to work with me every morning, and waits in the car until I decide to go home again. Perfect woman. She is always happy, no matter how my mood is. Is always there when I need her, even if I don’t speak to her for days in a row, and keep her locked up.

Her name is Ula, according to her label. The label given by the man I bought her from. But I don’t call her with that name. It reminds me of a Swedish lady who once worked with us in Kampala, and almost burned down the office by dumping a burning cigarette in a wastebasket filled with paper. Twice. That was a big woman that Ula..
No, my Ula, Tine and I just call ‘Zoeteke’, Flemish for “Honey” or “Sweetie” (E. would say).. Yep, Tine, my wife, knows about her. Actually Tine encouraged me to get her before we drove to Italy. And ‘Zoeteke’ helped us all along the way…

“Zoeteke” is the lady in my GPS. I love her. Without her I would be lost in Rome, which has nothing like the US system “On the corner of “Fifty seventh and Third”, but more “at the end of Colombo, before you hit ‘the wall’, turn right and then try to turn left even if you are not allowed to”. She is my saviour in anxious and confusing times. My only anchor when I get onto troubled roads again.

She greets me every morning with “No GPS signal”, her way of saying “Hey, I missed you, how are you today?”. She loves it when I take her for a spin, when I miss an exit on a roundabout, and loves it when I do it all again.

She has a built-in sixth sense for the radar speed checks. She starts beeping when I approach one. When I am speeding close to a speed trap, she gives a different high pitched noise, and gets really excited, chirping like a bird. In some places, the speed checks are so close together, that she gives several chirps after another. She chirps as if she is really looses herself, and bleeps like there was no tomorrow. I think this is her version of an orgasm. I love it to satisfy her, and would only start speeding to hear her making that noise of utter excitement!

Being a typical woman, she does not get along very well with other women. Once my friend E. took her ‘female companion’ into my car, and both GPS-ladies gave different advice where to drive, as if it was like they loved to disagree. At any given time, we expected them to start arguing ‘You cow, I tell you, they need to turn right here. You know ziltch. I know, I am younger and have a more recent update. You are dirt, you. You cheap piece of electronics…” We had to switch one off, as their verbal flood was confusing us.

Yep without my “Zoeteke” I would be lost.

3. New Woman, New Trouble.
Ok. Typical female again. One day after I wrote ravingly about the new woman in my life, I finally had my first argument with her. I was coming back from an evening dinner, and was somewhere in the middle of town. Had left her in the car, as usual. She must have been upset, stubborn, did not want to help me anymore. Did not even want to speak to me. No sound, no vision. Did not switch on. And without apparent reason.. Ha. Typical!

I tried to touch all parts of her, which I knew normally would turn her on, but nothing helped. Not a sound. Not one reaction. My GPS-woman was dead. So I had to do it by myself. I mean the driving. And you know what? It worked out well too. I can do without her, I learned. I don’t have to be dependent on a woman. Yeah!

I have to confess on the way home from Rome to Fiumicino, I missed an exit on a roundabout, and got back onto the same highway. Opposite direction. Back to Rome I went. I did the logical thing any man would do, took the first exit. Which seemingly was the one for the highway to Civitavecchia. First exit: ten kilometres further. And that exit had a toll booth. I paid, turned around, paid again to get onto the highway and drove back home. I did 60 km instead of the usual 20, but hey, *I could live without her*!

During the whole trip, I kept on arguing with her. My flood of insults, arguments and finally, pleading and begging did not matter, she did not say a word. Did not move. Did not switch on. Even shaking her did not help.

A typical woman. You start depending on them, and then they run off. Abandon you, shatter your life, destabilizing your “raison d’ être”, your reason to live.

I threatened to replace her with the Italian woman which was also available to me, at the flip of a switch (the same Italian woman I tried out just for a while, just to get the feeling of it, when I bought the GPS), even though that one has a sharp bitchy voice like a ninety year old grandma who forgot to put in her false teeth. It really made it difficult to undershhtand the direcshhtionshh. Or the German one, who – yep you guessed it – sounds like sssshe vvvould vvvhip me if I’d made a mistake by not following her explicit instructions.

No, truth being told, between you and me, dear reader, my Flemish woman, my “Zoeteke” is my GPS-woman of choice. But I never really told her. You know how women are…
Then I discovered a little hidden button labelled ‘Reset’.. Maybe that could help bringing my woman back into my life. But njet.. Nada. Niente. Zitch…

It was back to the manual. The book about ‘Life with women’, ‘The dummies guide on How to Treat Women’, my Bible. My Koran. My Talut: The Mio 710C manual.
It showed there was a way to disconnect the battery and do a hard reset, to start all over again.

And … plop… All of a sudden the world looked different. There was hope for all of us, for world peace, to end child hunger and free love for everyone: my “Zoeteke” came back to life. She greeted me just as she did any other morning, with a sweet: “No GPS signal”. Like nothing had happened. Like there had not been an argument, not a case where she abandoned me without a reason. Like there had been no insults, no threads, no flirting with other GPS-women from my part.

It was clear she wanted to give me another chance. And me, I did not mention any of the trouble neither. I did not tell her how I missed her. How I really wanted her more than any of the other women in my GPS. How I got so lost without her. I mean 60 km instead of 20 km to get back home, is pretty “lost” if you know what I mean! (and those quotes around “lost”, are of the kind with double-finger gestures and eyebrows slightly raised!)

I learned my lesson: I guess the worse for a woman is to be taken for granted. How often do we, men, not forget that there is a woman living with us. Someone who guides us through the myriad, the chaos, the labyrinth and pitfalls of life. While driving or not. Someone who is always there when we need them. At the flick of a switch. Always with a smile and with warm love… And we keep them locked up in our cars for days in a row?

From that day on, my relationship with the ‘new woman in my life’, changed. I smile at her in the morning. When she greets me with “No GPS signal”, I now answer “Yeah it is a lovely morning, isn’t it?”. And when she gives me directions, I always thank her. I chat to her, while driving in the car, to show I do not take her for granted. When I come home, I don’t leave her in the car anymore, but give her a place of honour in the house. I even bring flowers for her, from time to time. And look. She loves it. Look at the smile!

Robert, my room-slash-house mate, started smiling at her too. I warned him: “Robert, she is mine. Stay away…”
Do you think I should keep an eye on them? Maybe hire a private detective.. Just to see he does not fiddle with her. You know how women are once you push their buttons. And I am sure that Robert would not be able to resist her smile and deep exotic voice.. Even though it would take a while before he discovers how she gets completely ecstatic when you speed with her through the multiple radar checkpoints, climaxing into a digital orgasm of chirping high pitched sounds. I will not tell anyone. Will keep it my secret.

One thing is for sure. If Robert touches her, I want pictures to prove it. Now that I think of it, I *will* hire that private detective.

4. Gone.
I went out for dinner last night. When I got into the car, I realized something was different. She was no longer there. Zoeteke, the new woman in my life, was gone. Even her charger cable was gone. Could not have been Robert. He was not home. Someone broke into my car and stole her. Adds me to the 10% of the cars in Rome which get broken into every year. I wonder who she is riding with now?

Ah.. I guess not all love stories have a happy ending…

Continue reading The Road to the Horizon’s Ebook, jump to the Reader’s Digest of The Road.

GPS Navigation for Dummies

Peter — Sat, 10 Mar 2007 23:02:00 +0000

1. Tine wants me to buy a GPS for the car.

You know one of those gimmicks that talks you through to a destination point. And she wants me to buy it fast, as in one month’s time we will be driving from Belgium to Italy for our annual family skiing holiday. Each year we have one peak of sweat, blood and tears (and fierce discussions), when -once again- I miss an exit on the highway, or make the wrong turn, or just ‘loose it’. I am terrible in finding my way around. Somehow I always get to where I have to be – I guess I have a built in compass like the pigeons- but most of the time it is with a big detour, though ! I am just terrible. I have travelled to the world’s most deserted and most remote places, and still, I loose my way in our village, where we have lived for 20 years.

I guess my mind only has limited storage capacity (The staff in Afghanistan always thought it was funny when I wore my Tshirt ‘Fatal error – Run out of Memory’ with a Windows pop up screen). My mind can only store so many things at a time, and I guess I concentrate on the most important stuff. Remembering how to find my way from point A to point B, I do not consider important. Once I have driven a road, the memory is popped from my brain stack, and forgotten. Even if I drove it ten times..

Like the other weekend, I was driving to my brother’s home, and had to call him to ask directions. Wouldn’t be so bad if I had not been there ten times before… The proof of the not-importance was right there: I was driving to his home, to help him move. So you see: the driving instructions would have been irrelevant memory information, as one day later, ‘he would not live there anymore’.

It is embarrassing, though.. Sometimes, in our town/village, people give me driving instructions, by using landmarks or the names of big squares.. I never remember those names. So most of the time, they have to scroll back and first give me driving instructions starting from:
- “But what places *do* you know then?”
- “Euh, the railway station?”
Soon follows by the question “You just moved here or what?”..
Then I have to blush and confess: “I moved here two decades ago”.
The expression on their faces each time reminds me of Tine: ‘Buy a GPS!’. And now it became a hot item again, this GPS, as the skiing road trip is coming up again.

2. The Navigation Voice

You know, you can download the voices for the GPS navigation. ‘Turn left at the next turn’, ‘Take the next exit within 500 meters’. John Cleese’s voice is one of them. They just released that of ‘world famous’ (yeah rrrright) Belgian TV personality Paul Jambers. I heard him being interviewed, the other morning when driving back from Hannah’s school (yep, I can find my way back from her school easily now!).

Mr Jambers mentioned the voice they recorded was not his, but that of an imitator. Asked if he did not mind, he answered “No, because that must have been a lot of work. Imagine having to record all directions for all the Belgian roads. That is a LOT! And imagine if you have to do that for the whole of Europe!”. Proves my point you don’t have to be intelligent to be a TV personality.

3. Machines Take over Our Lives

A friend of mine just bought a GPS, and drove through the Alps. By accident, he had put the GPS setup-preferences on ‘The Shortest Route’. He said he thought something was wrong, when he branched off the highway and started to drive through hardly-paved roads. He *knew* something was wrong, when the machine lead him onto roads which split farmer’s barns and outdoor loo’s.

4. Other Uses of GPS navigation

I wonder what the GPS navigation system in the Humvees of the foreign troops in Iraq have on them:

“At the next building, looking like a tall tower, with a balcony, where a guy shouts 5 times per day, you turn left”
“This leads you into sniper alley, where 15 of your comrades died over the past year”. “Let me update that: 16″.
“Now turn right, as on the road ahead the wrecks from last weeks bomb attack have not been cleaned up yet”.
“You now pass the house which was raided by ten US troops last week. They arrested a fourteen year old girl. The rest of the story, you can read on CNN.”
“If an angry crowd awaits you at this market place, take a left”.
“You are now driving by a landmark we knew had no WMD’s stored in them. Even though we told the UN security council the opposite.”
“You have now arrived at your destination. The sites to admire here are the prison cells famous for their video shots of prisoners leached like dogs and forced to have sex with each other”.

5. More of the Same

What would Al Queda’s GPS navigation systems say?

“You are now driving by an excellent target, available when you have time for a suicide attack”
“At the Embassy of the Infidels, turn right”
“You have now arrived at your destination. Knock three times and give the password ‘F**k the Infidels’. Fusing mechanisms are on sale this week.”

6. Irish joke

It all makes me think of the joke my friend Pete once told me: “I was in Ireland and asked a guy directions to the next supermarket. The guy answered ‘Sirrr, if I werrrre you, I wouldn’t be starrrrrting from herrrrre !’ ”

What do you think, should I buy a GPS navigation system?