M. and Wild Thing and I were trying to figure out what time it was in Singapore. You know how sometimes you just need to know that kind of thing? So Wild Thing grabbed the I-Pad she bought last week and said, “Hey, Siri.”
“What?” M. asked.
“She has an imaginary friend,” I said.
“I’m talking to Siri,” Wild Thing said.
My point exactly.
In extended and increasingly colorful ways, M. and I said, “Sure you are.”
“Siri?” Wild Thing repeated to her I-Pad.
She might as well have been talking to the teapot. So while M. and I discussed the nature and uses of imaginary friends (in increasingly colorful and bizarre ways), Wild Thing—in the bits of air time she managed to snatch from us—explained that she’d set Siri up to have a woman’s voice and an American accent but that she’d reverted to being a British male—and a posh one at that.
Trust Wild Thing to have an imaginary friend with a sex change and an ambiguous national identity.
Because of the new accent, Wild Thing said, Siri couldn’t understand her, and that was why she wasn’t answering.
Unless he wasn’t answering. I don’t want to be insensitive, but this sex change business gets confusing when you’re dealing with invisible friends and virtual beings.
But forget about gender—it’s simple compared to accent. To what extent is an invisible British friend able to understand an American accent? I mean, just how parochial is she or he? And if the American accent’s a problem, is he or she (or, well, whatever) able to understand a working class British accent? Or a Welsh one? Or—well, you get the point: How narrow a range of tolerance are we talking about here? What happens if you have, let’s say, an Iranian accent in your English? Do you have to, and for that matter can you, set up your invisible friend to have her (or his, or whatever’s) very own Iranian accent in English?
I haven’t been impressed with the breadth of understanding demonstrated by virtual voices. We were in New Zealand once, and Wild Thing was on the phone with a computerized system.
“Yes,” she said in response to it doesn’t matter what question.
“I’m sorry,” the computer said, “but I didn’t understand that. Did you say ‘address’?”
“No, I said ‘yes.’”
“Did you say ‘guess’?”
And so forth until Wild Thing pinched her nose and, in her best imitation of a kiwi accent, said, “Yiss.”
“Thank you,” the computer said. (And sent a dress to the wrong address. Not that the address mattered. The last time Wild Thing wore a dress, splinters hadn’t been invented yet. And no, we’re not going to discuss how long it’s been since I wore one. It’s enough to say that I may still remember which end faces the feed.)
But back to that New Zealand virtual voice: What happens if you have a lisp and your yiss sounds like yith? You can’t order 80 kilos of chocolate covered Turkish delight by phone, that’s what, because you can’t confirm your order. You can’t call for a cab. You can’t let the bank know that your credit card just wandered off without you. Because the voice is set to the local accent—one local accent, and if it doesn’t happen to be the one you have, you’re skunked.
Or that’s my, admittedly limited, experience.
Apply this to invisible friends and you have to wonder, How much do they have to be mirror images of ourselves in order to understand us, or in order for us to accept them? If the posh, imaginary British man can’t understand (or be accepted by) the un-posh but entirely real American woman who’s talking into her teapot, what chance do the flesh and blood inhabitants of this planet to have to work out our differences?
M. and Wild Thing and I didn’t have time to explore that question, although no doubt the world would be a better place by now if we had. M. was heading home and we were out of time, not to mention cookies.
Wild Thing had addressed her I-Pad multiple times by then and swore Siri had answered her. Me, though? I didn’t hear a thing. And I’m prepared to speak for M. as well: She didn’t either.
Thank goodness no one here has tried to implement voice recognition systems in customer service yet. With eleven official languages (and God only knows how many unofficial) you can imagine the plethora of accents in this country. As for whether it helps or harms in the quest for harmony…
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I’d like to think its absence (to date) is due to something as logical as the fact that it wouldn’t work….
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One would hope, but alas. If the politician responsible for education for a province can seriously recommend phrenology and graphology be used to place kindergartners in the appropriate academic tracks then logic has clearly left the building long ago.
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I just can’t come up with anything funny to say to that.
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The point where politicians become so ridiculous one can’t even make fun of them anymore. There should be a name for this phenomenon.
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When I was trying to find a publisher for my second novel, Open Line, which is a paranoid political satire, American politics were rapidly becoming so bizarre that I was afraid they were going to outrun my admittedly bizarre plot, and I was frantic to get it into print before that happened. So yes, I know what you’re talking about, but I don’t have a name for it either.
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Love this post! I was just “talking” with Siri the other day! I actually have mine set to an American male voice… I figured it would be different than the original Siri voice. I’m not sure in fact how the developers chose that name anyway?
In fact, Siri doesn’t always get it right…accents can trip her/him up or she gets a word wrong… I think the technology is amazing though!
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I suppose it is amazing. And even more amazing that we sort of take it for granted. But it’s still a bit of a nightmare. See the link Berlinda recommended for a great take on it all.
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Will do!!
Have a great rest of the day!
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Reminds me of this which cracks me up :)
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That’s inspired.
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But what time was it in Singapore ?!?
This one had me laughing out loud the whole way through. You are an exceptionally skilled humorist.
Tell Wild Thing to watch her language with Siri. My granddaughter was reprimanded when she posed this question, “why isn’t the damn tv working?”
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We never did find out what time it was, but I can guarantee that it’s a different time by now.
And you can tell Siri for me to mind her own damn business.
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As Siri admonished, “There’s no reason to swear.” :-)
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Siri only says that because s/he hasn’t lived. Literally.
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Our GPS has a thick Brit accent (no idea the region) and her voice is often incomprehensible to us, but she makes us laugh and that’s enough.
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Yup, if you’re going to be lost, you might as well be laughing.
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I love that video!! Siri isn’t too good, Google’s version is far superior. now I have to try Siri…
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Apparently the most important question is whether Google’s version will let you swear.
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i bet it will keep asking you rather than accept the curses.
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Clearly a superior product, then.
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What berlinda said!
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Siri seems to be biased against British accents, in my somewhat limited experience. I have a friend with a thick Southern (U.S.) drawl, and he/she understands him perfectly. Another friend, from Ireland, struggles to get SIri’s cooperation. Apparently he/she doesn’t do well with Scottish accents either, as evidenced by this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=My40XgYEvLM
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We’ve got to do something about Siri’s rampant biases.
The video’s wonderful.
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Reminds me of the time I worked in IT Support in Sheffield and had to set up a laptop with voice recognition software for someone who had RSI. I had a helluva time getting the posh English system to understand my flat northern vowels – I almost gave up trying to program it for ‘the’
Jude xx (via http://bemuzin.com/2015/02/19/good-read-the-divorce-diet/ )
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Insane, isn’t it? I mean, didn’t they think about this when they created the software??
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It has been fascinating reading your take on the differences between America and Britain given that I am experiencing the same comparisons and contrasts the other way around.
I have actually experienced this whole issue with Siri, so much so that I rarely ever attempt to even use the voice recognition feature. If you are interested in reading my rant about it, it is over at my blog here: https://pictinpa.wordpress.com/2014/04/02/siri-says-tom-may-toe-when-i-say-tom-at-oh/
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I wanted find out where I could buy tickets to the play “War Horse”. Siri gave me a list of escort services near me. I finally figured out she thought I was saying whore house!
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If there’s a prize for this, that takes it. She is, um, nonjudgmental, isn’t she?
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