My GPS Wants to Sabotage Me

I’m always just a little scared to go against what my GPS tells me to do…it’s probably part of her plan, though, to create a need for her, a dependence.

It’s a likely story, of course; The nice British lady that lives inside the GPS box will instruct me to turn left in 500 meters, but instead, because I’ve been misled by the metric system one too many times, I turn left in 800 meters. “Turn left,” she’ll repeat, just to taunt me, though, because I’ve already committed my driving felony. “TURN LEFT!”

(See?? Scare tactics!)

Ok, she doesn’t yell, but she passive aggressively hates my guts now because I’ve gone against her instructions and it’s not the first time. “Recalculating,” she’ll say. She doesn’t care that I know a better route because they’re doing road work here. She wants me to take her route. She doesn’t care if I get a flat tire and spin out in a pot hole, because, goddammit, her route is always the best route; Nay – it’s the only route.

But it’s difficult to be sarcastic with the lady who lives in the GPS. I feel like it doesn’t even affect her. But then when I make a wrong turn? Stink eye. That’s right. My GPS gives me stink eye. Because she’s too passive aggressive to talk things out, like normal people.

Instead, I’ll be on my way to an appointment one day and she’ll take me all over the effing city because she knows that I know that the previous time I totally brushed her off. “Who do you think knows more about this city??” she thinks to herself. “You? Or fucking ME, with millions of maps and tools programmed into me to make this easier for you. You’re such an ungrateful bitch,” she thinks to herself.

She’ll never say this of course; she wouldn’t dare. Instead, she’ll make my next excursion even more of a living hell, taking me through the sketchy parts of town, waiting till the absolute last second to tell me when to turn so that I miss my exit and she can mock me while she’s “recalculating” an alternate route.

And all behind the guise of a polite, British accent… Clearly, a recipe for sabotage.

[Via http://leaveofabsinthe.wordpress.com]