Notes from Perry Street: Phone Listening

By JOHN WINTERS, Publisher

It was a Saturday and Youngest SON of Thunder was home from college over Christmas break.

“How about some brunch,” I asked.

“Sure,” he said.

So off we go to one of our Joints, this time it was Town and Country, where the food is always good, the waitresses are wonderful and always greet you with a smile. They know what I drink, and can usually guess what I’m in the mood for. And if I am really good, I might get a “sugar” or “darlin” from them as well.

A quick aside. Check out “The Joints” on our website, www.wintersmedia.net, for the best locally-owned food establishments.. Another quick aside. Town and Country advertises with us, and we always like to support our clients.Back to the column. So I order “brunch.” Two fried eggs, yolks runny, whites cooked, hashbrowns, country fried steak with some damn good white pepper gravy and sourdough toast. Yes, you can ask for sourdough, which is also damn good.

Youngest orders chicken tenders, broccoli and sourdough toast.

I kind of look at him. “What are you, five?” I ask.

“They have good chicken tenders,” he replies. Okay, they are also another damn good item.

“Broccoli? What college student likes broccoli.” And he responds that he does, especially with cheese and …

I point out I invited him to “brunch,” not “lunch.” Youngest just shrugs it off. I try one last time, pointing out that the only vegetables one eats at breakfast are in an omelet.

He takes the kidding in stride. We have way more important issues to discuss. Like, what if?

That “what if” being if our phones could listen to us.

I say that tongue-in-cheek because anyone who doesn’t KNOW our phones listen to us doesn’t believe we landed on the moon or does believe the earth is flat. Bless their hearts.

This whole phone listening issue started off as a sort of joke, “oh, isn’t that a coincident” when whatever you were talking about somehow shows up with your next search. Now? Now it is just freaking scary.

So Youngest and I are discussing this very topic and I glance down at my phone. I had just texted the Little Black Dress to see if she wanted us to bring her anything  … and the phone is literally transcribing our conversation on the text app. I mean literally.

I hold it up to Youngest, who gives me the raised eyebrow that translate to “that is freaking scary.”

And now we have “memories.” Every couple of days my phone decides to look through my photos and “share” some similar photos. Like this: Amanda at Jack of all Fades is my barber, and yes, she is a licensed barber. She’s not taking new clients, sorry.

Anyhoo, I have an appointment for a Spa Day. That’s just what I call a haircut and hot lather/soaped up razor blade shave. I always take photos and send them to my golf buddies simply to make them jealous. Jealous of me getting a shave and getting it from Amanda.

I wake up one morning, which is going to be a Spa Day,  to a new “memory.” It’s a collection of photos I’ve taken with Amanda. “Wow” when she saw the photos I sent.

But our phones can’t listen to us.

Finally, a new administration will be taking over this January. Regardless of your political leaning, let’s all be civil to each other.

Happy New Year.