You mean the ‘intelligent personal assistant who is always with you and always there to help’?

No.

Sadly, no.

Otherwise, maybe I would be earning royalties anytime anyone said, ‘Hey Siri…’

(In case you were wondering, at my house when my husband and I are in different rooms and he calls out ‘Hey Siri!’…his phone answers.)

When I was growing up, I only knew 3 other Siris. The first was my mother’s childhood friend for whom I was named. The second was a model for painter Andrew Wyeth, which was kind of cool. When I was in the fourth grade, I went to a Wyeth exhibit with my family, anxious to forge a connection with another Siri. (There weren’t many of us — any of us? — out there.) I was thinking maybe I’d buy a postcard to show my friends. Unfortunately, most of the paintings were nudes. It wasn’t quite the connection I’d been hoping to make.

The last Siri? It was a weird college thing. A group of friends was making plans for an upcoming dance. Where were we going to dinner? Who was driving? What time people were going to be picked up? While we worked everything out, I eavesdropped on the group standing next to us. They also were trying to decide who was going to pick up Siri. Which was kind of weird, because I didn’t really know many of them and I’d already figured all of that out. So I leaned over and said, ‘Hello. Right here. I’ve got Siri taken care of.’

And they said, ‘Great. Seven o’clock at XYZ building?’

And I said, ‘Uh…six-thirty at ABC Park…?’

‘…but Siri said–‘

‘–I’m Siri.’

It took us a while to sort out that, there were actually two different Siris at university and we were both attending the same dance that night. I’d never heard of her, she’d never heard of me and suddenly, there we were. I never ran into her again.

I grew up in a world of three Siris. Now there are over 700 million of us.

I liked being the only me I knew. I didn’t have to live up to any expectations. Most of the time, I was the first Siri anyone had ever met. Growing up Siri wasn’t like growing up Jennifer or Lisa or Amy. If someone said my name, I didn’t have to wonder which Siri they were talking about. There was always only me. Now? I hear my name so often I get whiplash.

Back then, no one knew how to spell my name, let alone pronounce it.

Now? All I have to say is, ‘Siri. Like the iPhone,’ and people totally get it. Have to admit, that’s kind of nice.

Was the iPhone named after me?

Nope.

But I hope you won’t mind if I keep thinking of myself as an original.