Words With Algorithms
Sorry, Chris.
Words with Friends is the only game I play on my phone. I’ve long been a Scrabble fan, and I limit my matches to my spouse, my daughters, and a close friend. It’s a pleasurable, low-stakes small screen activity requiring limited time commitment.
That said, one unfortunate feature of Words with Friends is its persistence in trying to pair you with other players of your skill level, all total strangers, which leads to another unfortunate feature: it is way too easy to slip up when the aforementioned strangers are presented as your Match of the Day, because even if you ignore issuing a direct invitation, you can inadvertently hit “Next Game,” summoning one of these suggested matches/total strangers to poof! onto your screen like an eager genie out of a lamp you have accidently conjured. I am thusly saddled with Chris, and I’m beside myself.
Chris has already played his first word. Smelt, for 18 points. He’s been waiting five hours, undoubtedly wondering what the hell is taking me so long. I have put my phone down in another room, hoping Chris can take a hint.
What if he finds a way to track me down, and he’s got anger issues? His avatar, a pirate, looks aggressive. Even though it was unintentional, I feel bad that I signaled to Chris my willingness to engage, and now I’m ignoring him. And while it’s true he’s out there somewhere in cyberspace, my imagination is right here, and it’s both mildly paranoid and overactive.
Anyway, I’m avoiding my haunted phone, and reminiscing about Scrabble games back in the day, before the internet got involved. I think of rainy days around the dining room table. The feel of the tiles in my fingers, arranging them on my little wooden tray. No peeking! Taking a turn not between breaks in the action of a TV show, but after the person before you, and before the person who comes next.
I know it’s just a matter of time until Chris gives up, but I can’t stop feeling bad about getting his hopes up. I make a vow to set up our Scrabble game, which makes me feel better. A known universe, bounded by our dining room table, and best of all, 100% intentional.