One Sunday afternoon, a grandson proudly showed up at his grandparents’ house with a brand-new smartphone.
“Grandma, Grandpa,” he announced, “now you two can finally text each other!”
The old man squinted at the glowing screen like it was a UFO. “Text her? Why on earth would I do that? She’s been nagging in my ear for fifty years. The last thing I need is her voice in writing, too.”
His wife folded her arms and smirked. “Oh, please. The real reason is that you type slower than you walk—and that’s saying something.”
Grumbling, the old man poked the glass with a crooked finger, accidentally opening the calculator instead.
Grandma leaned over his shoulder and teased, “Don’t worry, dear. It’s probably just helping you count how many arguments you’ve lost today.”
Losing his patience, the old man barked at the screen, “Fine! I’ll send her a message. Siri! Type: ‘You’re annoying.’”
The phone buzzed, and a notification instantly popped up on Grandma’s screen.
Message received: “You’re anointing.”
Grandma burst out laughing, adjusting her glasses. “Finally! A piece of technology that recognizes I’m an absolute saint!”
The old man slammed the phone onto the table and muttered, “That’s it. I’m sticking to smoke signals from now on. At least they don’t autocorrect.”
