167. When Google Tries To Boss You Around

So I’m trying to do a simple Google search for the best type of maple syrup to buy and guess what? Google tells me what I really want is Mapquest. No, I said maple syrup, you fool, not Mapquest. This is a disturbing trend: the oh-so-helpful-Google, like that friend-that-always-tries-to-finish-your-sentences, wants to guess what I want ahead of time.

Stop it. I’m looking for angel food cake recipes, not Angelina Jolie. And just because I type the promising t-r-a, don’t assume I want to book a trip with Travelocity when I’m merely checking traffic. Look out if you make the mistake of innocently typing the letters p-e-n-i in a vain attempt to find the Peninsula Hotel in Hong Kong. Some interesting ideas pop up, so to speak, and none involve five-star hotels.

Too bad if you are looking for macaroni and cheese recipes, because Google decides It wants you to shop at Macy’s. Hunting for some great quotes by Fred Flintstone? It thinks why not take a peek at your free credit report. Searching for random facts on Shamu, the killer whale from Sea World? You must really be comparing various brands of shampoo, at least according to Google.

When did Google turn so Orwellian?

Project Runway fans want to go to the Project Runway website? Not without a detour to Progressive Auto Insurance. Gardening services? How about facts on the Garden State instead (that would be New Jersey, and, as I just learned, a movie starring Zach Braff). Ah, these interesting tidbits you pick up in your (silly) endeavor to look up what you want.

Surf boards morph into the kitchen store Sur La Table. Your desire for astronomy is better suited to astrology. Who needs moving services when you can go see a movie? Looking to translate something with language translations? Oh, why bother when you can just order a new sweater from Land’s End. Prefer to get rid of pesky mosquitoes? Not before reading about the controversy of the mosque at Ground Zero.

That’s it, Bossy Impatient Google, enough I say! I just want to type what I want to type. Don’t tell me what I want: just give me five seconds to finish my thought. Grrrrrr.

And my day is complete: I request information on the miracle cleaner called Goo Be Gone, and instead the presumptuous and narcissistic Google gives me its best choice: “Google”.

MOV
(“Maneuvered On Vectors”)