An Apology From Dragon NaturallySpeaking for the Whole Explosives
Safety Manual Dictation Snafu
Hey Ted, how are ya, man? You look great! I mean, from what I can see
of you, anyway, all the uncovered stuff looks great! Leg, chest, a few
fingers poking through the gauze here and there—but nothing major
though, right? Right! Let’s stay positive!
Which is exactly what we should be doing: Staying positive. We should
all stay extremely positive at a time like this—especially you, Ted!
No dark thoughts about what may have gone wrong or why, and certainly
no ill-will toward any dictation software that clearly states it has a
small but completely acceptable error rate right there on the box. No
dwelling on “blue wires” or “bleu wires” or “tube wines” or whatever
it may have been that the silly manual I helped dictate told you to
cut. We’ll laugh about it all someday, Ted, just as soon as the
surgeon reattaches that jaw of yours and coaxes those severed nerves
into talking to your brain again.
Jeez, Ted, I really wish you were conscious right now. You’d see that
everyone outside your hermetically sealed healing chamber is pulling
for you, waiting for you to get better—especially me, your old
dictation friend Dragon NaturallySpeaking. Not that anyone’s worried,
Ted. Don’t think like that!
I mean, I’m no doctor. Obviously. I’m humble, critically-acclaimed
voice recognition and dictation software. The same software that our
mush mouthed co-worker Carl installed on the office laptop last week
as he prepared to revise the Explosives Safety Manual. Honestly, Ted,
if we should be angry at anyone for suggesting you “cut the boob
tyres” and blowing your limp, mangled body across the room, it should
be him!
I’m positive that if you had any brain activity whatsoever right now
you’d agree with me, Ted, because you’ve always been such a bastion of
optimism and understanding around the office. I don’t see this little
incident—this misunderstanding—dampening that spirit of yours one
iota.
Ha! That reminds me. Remember when Carl said “misunderestimate” that
one time, and everyone in the office called him President George W.
Bush? We just laughed and laughed at his stupid face for an entire
day. Totally something that notorious mumbler would say. That Carl,
man, always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.
But enough about Carl and his chronic inability to coherently dictate
safety instructions formed from the most basic words in the English
language. Let’s get back to you.
Ted, you’re the kind of guy whose rosy outlook on life would have
him—were he physically able, of course—reaching out from his hospital
bed to grab a caring friend’s hand to let them know everything was
going to be OK. A caring friend like me, who just goes to work day in
and day out, humbly taking down people’s words exactly as they say
them with a few acceptable errors here and there, and then spits them
out as incredibly important safety manuals that people like Carl
should have double-checked while they were dictating the instructions
for that one section on disarming C4 detonators.
Gosh, right? Can we talk about Carl again for moment? Guy talks like
he’s got a mouthful of chunky peanut butter. When he isn’t bumbling
words he’s busy mispronouncing things like “never cut the green wire”
and making a mess of things. What an unpredictable guy Carl can
be—just like bombs and explosions! Regular riddles, they are—bombs and
Carl’s speech patterns, I mean—wrapped in wires and confusing
colloquialisms and other such things. You’d need an elaborate manual,
impeccably dictated by a borderline magical software program just to
understand either of them!
Ted, what I’m trying to say is that, like Carl, I’m fallible. I may be
cold, calculating software with the uncanny ability to capture human
speech and put it to paper in ways that seemingly defy the natural
laws of the known universe, but we should never forget that my
disclaimer says I'm imperfect. Like Carl. I hear what he says and I
put it on the screen as best I can given what I am able to discern
from his dim-witted vernacular. This is what I was designed to do
accurately, approximately 80-90% of the time.
But I really don’t want to make this into a blame game, with you and I
the old chums on one side, and incompetent Carl on the other. Deep
down, I know you feel the same way, and you’d tell me that if you
still had a mouth or a voice box. Or even basic cognitive function,
which the doctors assure me has a 60% chance of returning once the
medically induced coma is lifted and they can get a good look at that
brain of yours. Those are better odds than someone working with a
manual dictated by Carl would have, that's for sure!
You look great, by the way. Did anyone tell you that yet? You’ll be on
your stubs, stumbling around rehab and learning to speak at a third
grade level in no time flat. I’ll even help you write the whole
experience down for the mandatory safety board investigation.
Then we can talk some more about Carl.
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