I woke up late.

Just a few weeks ago, I discovered an amazing thing about my phone. When my alarm went off, if I said ‘Stop!’ it would stop. And if I said ‘Snooze!’ it would snooze and go off again 9 minutes later. I love those 9 minute intervals.

9 minutes in which you can have the most elaborate, complicated dreams. Then your alarm goes off again and you say either ‘Stop!’ or ‘Snooze!’ again. For years, I had no idea this was even a thing (Android, btw, I’m sure iPhone has something similar). I was a manual guy. Reaching my arm out of bed to swipe either left (snooze) or right (stop). Reaching. Swiping. The stuff of peasants once you realise your voice has all the power.

Then, out of nowhere, it just stopped working. ‘Stop!’ I would say, and it would not stop. It didn’t matter how I said it, how often I said it, how loud I said it. Nothing. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Goddam nothing. Same with ‘Snooze!’. No effect. The alarm would just keep playing. I don’t know why.

It’s like the universe has played a cruel trick on me. It gave me something good, then it took it away. And yes, I tried all the stuff. I deleted my alarms and recreated them. I set the ‘voice commands’ to off then back the other way. You know, I worked in tech support for some years, I understand the basic rule of technology is to turn something off then turn it on again. This fixes 98% of all problems, and that is a scientific fact*.

My alarm, by the way, is this. If you can make it all the way through to where the beat kicks in, you’re in some heavy duty sleep. Basically a coma-adjacent situation. But anyway, this morning it didn’t go off for some reason. I know I didn’t shout ‘Stop!’ or ‘Snooze!’ because, as I have clearly outlined above, that no longer works. Which, by the way, I find extremely vexing because I absolutely hate when something doesn’t work the way I expect it to.

I can’t really explain it but to me the most frustrating thing in all the world is a thing which doesn’t do what it is supposed to, for no good reason. Oh, you set it on fire, or a child poured a load of Castrol GTX on top of it? Fine. I get it. That can be an impediment to functionality, but when there’s no obvious cause, it drives me absolutely mad.

I become like a character in a bad made for TV movie. “WHHYYYYYY?!!” I will shout. Correction: not shout. Exclaim loudly. Eyes to the sky, fists bunched, shaking like I’m playing invisible maracas. Please note: I will obviously have turned it off and then again because as we already know this fixes 98% of all problems, and that is a scientific fact*.

It’s those 2% bastards that are the bane of my existence. My basic thought is ‘You are a thing designed and manufactured to do something, so you should do that something rather than not doing something’. It’s all so pointless otherwise. There’s so much stuff in the world that is created for a specific purpose and if you, as that thing, are either unwilling or unable to carry out your primary function, then you’re just a waste of space.

I realise I am ascribing conscious thought to often inanimate objects, but I don’t complain to you when you do something that’s doesn’t make any sense, do I? No. So please, don’t hold me to higher standards. Anyway, as I said above, it’s like the universe bestows a gift upon you, you like the gift, you appreciate the gift, and then it takes it away.

All of which is to say, if Riccardo Calafiori has a bad knee injury, I’m going to be extremely unhappy. Think of all the things, and all the dreadful people, that the universe could choose to be the recipient of its gifts, and yet the Italian Stallion is the one who left the stadium the other day with knee thingy to protect his knee. That’s what knee thingys do.

I have no more to say on this matter, other than I hope Calafiori is ok, because much like discovering you can control your phone alarm with your voice, he brought a small sliver of joy to my life, and I don’t want to be without it anymore.

Thank you.

* From the Scientific Journal of Science, edition 323a, March 1994: Author – Professor Godfrey Twatschlock

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