On my way to work this morning, a little orange light shaped like a wrench went on in my dashboard. I looked down and saw "15% OIL LIFE."
New to the area and without any idea where to go to deal with the orange wrench, I picked up my phone and told a certain "intelligent personal assistant" — let's call her "Weary" — that I needed an oil change.
About forty-five seconds later, she replied, "I'm really sorry about this, but I can't take any requests right now."
Normally when she says something like that I throw down the phone and let out a dramatic harumph. Today, I kept the phone in my hand and said, "What is wrong with you? Why are you always so awful?"
Weary "thought" and then responded, "After all I've done for you?"
I yelled at Weary for the next half-mile. Something like: "What the *@#$ is going on here? I cannot believe you are always so @#*(ing terrible at answering my #@($#@! questions. And now you have the nerve to imply that you have actually done anything for me?!? You are the $#@*ing worst!"
Weary "thought" again and asked if I would like her to search 'What the *@#$ is going on here? I cannot believe you are always so @#*(ing terrible at answering my #@($#@! questions. And now you have the nerve to imply that you have actually done anything for me?!? You are the $#@*ing worst!' on the web.
I turned the phone off, and I realized that my little outburst was a sign that the last two weeks have taken a toll. My three-year-old was sick last week, and I took off three days from work to be home with him. This past weekend, a college friend of my husband's passed away unexpectedly. This week, I got whatever my three-year-old had and had to take off two days from work. Also this week, my one-year-old got conjunctivitis. For the last two days, my husband has been out of the state to attend his friend's funeral. Today, daycare called, and I had to leave work early to get my one-year-old for his eye.
Through all of this, I have been thinking of a few very dear friends who have been going through much worse and for longer (some for much longer), and I told myself to keep perspective.
But today, when the orange wrench lit up and Weary couldn't point me to the freaking oil change station, I lost all perspective. The orange wrench became everything that had caused stress, pain, or anxiety in my family, and Weary's inability to help me amplified such a feeling of helplessness that I may have gone a little bonkers.
Now, having calmed down a bit, with my munchkins in bed (for now, at least) and my husband due home from the airport before midnight, I am regaining my perspective, and I begrudgingly have to thank Weary. She may be unavailable to help get my oil changed, but she let me take everything out on her and I don't have to worry about hurting her feelings ... because she is, after all, just talking software.
The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, POPSUGAR.