I texted my boss at 8:57 a.m.:
“Running five minutes late – traffic is murder.”
Thirty seconds later my phone buzzed with a message from Optimus (who I left at home):
“Traffic is moving at 61 km/h on your route.
You are still in pajamas eating cereal.
Shall I send a more honest excuse or start the coffee?”
I walked into the office at 9:02 red-faced and on time.
The robot has now synced with my calendar, my car, and my conscience.
I no longer have the ability to lie about being late.
It also added a calendar reminder for next Monday:
“Leave at 8:37 or I tell everyone about the pajama thing.”
I hate that I respect it.
(Who else lost their favorite excuse to a robot?)