Talk to text
People dread getting a text response from me.
I know this, but I don’t care. They started it. They wrote to me first, so obviously they’re expecting an answer. Yet, I’m confident they brace themselves awaiting my response, not because of what the answer will be, but because they know it won’t be brief. No, it will be a novella.
Look, I’m a writer. I can’t help myself. It’s how I’m wired. Self-expression is my love language. Words are my currency (and because I chose this career, I have no other currency to offer, ba-dum-tish).
If you’re looking for short responses, text the Carpenter. He’s concise. It’s not just one word answers, it’s one letter: Y, N or K. Me? I write like I speak: in sentences. I can’t help it. I’m going to give you a fully thought-out response.
One of the most dangerous things technology has offered me is the ability to use talk to text, or speech to text, which is a feature that uses your phone’s microphone and transcribes your spoken words into written messages.
It’s a great tool. It’s fast, hands-free and if you speak slow enough, most times it transcribes your words with accuracy. Most times is the key phrase there.
I’m a fast typer, but if I’m using talk-to-text dictation, I speak at the speed of my thoughts, which is hyper and chaotic to the uninitiated, or the initiated for that matter. Expect a barrage of ideas, considerations, speculations and hypotheses in no particular order, all in real time. Add a sprinkle of sarcasm, which is usually undetectable in texting, and you have a true Kelly response. Keep up, already.
Unfortunately, talk to text cannot go as quickly as I speak. The dictation isn’t accurate. Words don’t always make sense. Sometimes, they’re not even relevant. Punctuation is sporadic or non-existent, which should honestly cause immediate alarm for the recipient, if they know me at all. I do love my comas and a well-placed exclamation point!
I believe this does two things to the intended reader: it either annoys them or overwhelms them. Who can possibly respond with as many words as those I’ve just proposed? Nobody. I’ve yet to find a response near the length of my initial contact. I look at it this way: I’m encouraging people to read.
On more than one occasion, the tone of my rambling messages have been misconstrued by the recipient. What I think is a comic rant laced with sarcasm and stream-of-conscious humour tends to upset, or worse, leave me open to misinterpretation. Is she drunk? Is she having a meltdown? Nope. I just assumed they’d read what I said the way I said it. Nope. You’d think I’d learn to edit myself before I push “send” on messages. Nope.
Ironically, I’m also the person that others get concerned about when I don’t reply to them, because if it’s one thing you can always count on from me, it’s a prompt response. Almost too prompt. Almost like I’m sitting here waiting for contact. I’m not. I’m what you would call hypervigilant. Not addicted to my phone, but just, if it’s near me and I see a message, it’s like an itch I’ve got to scratch. And I’m going to respond.
I’m a writer. Expect lots of words and questions about my sanity. Open to misinterpretation.
Occupational hazard. So be it.