A gift horse

My son made a claim recently that I disputed. It was something outrageous about how much money athletes were making playing basketball outside of the NBA. He cited a social media-driven league I had no knowledge of and then boasted that most of the players were making millions of dollars. When I questioned his primary sources for this information, he scoffed, suggesting I should just believe him at his word.

There’s not a week that goes by where I don’t say to my son, “You’ve got a supercomputer in your pocket. Use it!” And so, in this instance, I insisted he look up the league and find any official reference to how much the players were making. This, apparently, was too much trouble.

With the advent of AI models that can comprise the entirety of the internet, there’s really no reason not to know everything. It took me minutes to substantiate what I had previously surmised, and when I went to my son with the information, he scoffed at me again. (There are only so many times you can pull the “I told you so” card with your kid before they simply stop listening.)

My smartphone is a great communication tool, but my true love for the device comes from the database of information that it gives me access to. I was trying to cobble together some old stereo equipment recently, and when the turntable would not function with the receiver, I simply asked ChatGPT what I needed to do to make it work. Within seconds, I had my answer.

Before the internet, that would have taken immense reading and research, and even then, you weren’t guaranteed the correct answer. You weren’t even assured success with a standard Google search since you had to rely on someone prior to you having the same unique issue. AI, however, can figure out complex issues even when there are no exact source materials based on that specific question.

But of all the functionality my smartphone offers, it’s the calendar app I deem most valuable. Between my work and personal life, I have an immense number of activities and deadlines to meet. Without constant reminders and updates from my calendar, I would structurally fall apart.

This past week, my alerts for Valentine’s Day began to go off. The first alert went off five days prior just to get me thinking about it. The second alert went off three days prior to help me remember that my window to react was closing. And the final alert went off the day before to remind me, “This is your last shot.”

When the final alert went off, I was sitting at my desk at work, engrossed in a project. I knew when the alert sounded that I had to react immediately, so I stood up, determined to head to the florist for an appropriate gift. As I approached the door to leave, a young man was entering, holding, ironically, a large bouquet of flowers. He asked me if I could sign for them, which I did. And then, I dutifully carried them to my coworker’s office.

I opened my coworker’s door and, with a big smile on my face, proclaimed, “Someone has a secret admirer!” Her reaction, however, was completely unexpected. She hesitantly reached into the bouquet, pulled out the card, read it, and then tossed it into the garbage. “Throw them away,” she demanded.

I then learned she had an ex-boyfriend who was consistently harassing her. She had been spurning his advances since their breakup and was visibly shaken by his latest attempt.

I looked at the bouquet and, given the size and girth, assessed it to be a $175 purchase. I then looked at my coworker and, with a hint of shame, offered to buy the flowers from her. She rebuked my offer and insisted that I just take them. I told her I couldn’t do that; I had to reciprocate in some fashion. We finally came to an agreement that I would buy her breakfast from McDonald’s the following day, which I dutifully did for less than $10.

Needless to say, my wife awoke to a magnificent bouquet on Valentine’s Day. She was thrilled but taken aback. “You usually give me a single rose,” she stated while staring in awe at the abundance of flowers. “Sit down,” I insisted. “I’ve got an interesting story to tell you.”

My coworker’s story, unfortunately, sounded a bit like this week’s film, “It Ends with Us,” where a once-promising relationship turns dark and distressing.

Blake Lively stars as a young woman who falls into a relationship with a seemingly perfect man. But when situations arise and mysteries are uncovered, that ideal man turns into the perfect enemy.

The story of a controlling partner is not a new one. Unfortunately, “It Ends with Us” does nothing to make the topic intriguing or dramatic. Instead, it simply hovers around odd and pathetic.

Don’t bother with this one unless the current drama between the central star and director is something you’re interested in.

An overbearing “C-” for “It Ends with Us” is now available to stream on Amazon Prime Video.

Got a question or comment for Dom? You can email him at moviediary@att.net.