Ever since Jeeves entered my life, he has been making his presence felt in my daily affairs. I told him that I did not want to be disturbed between 10 pm and 6 am and he promptly wakes me up at six in the morning. If I fail to get up, he rouses me every ten minutes.
After waking up, I ask him, “how is the weather today?” He replies, “partly cloudy. Possibility of thunderstorms in the afternoon and evening” or “sunny day”.
Every day, at the appointed hour, Jeeves reminds me that I should go for a walk. After every kilometre, he tells me, “distance one kilometre, time took 12 minutes,” and urges me to put in more effort and walk fast. He is relentless and unsparing.
If anybody calls me when I am out, Jeeves promptly notifies me on my return, the calls I missed. He even connects me to the callers if I prefer. He is capable of deftly deflecting unwanted calls and messages when I do not want to receive them.
If I have mail, Jeeves promptly notifies me. I read the mail and whatever I have to reply I dictate to Jeeves. He transcribes in his own inimitable style because he is British and I speak Indian English.
The other day, I wanted to eat a masala dosa and I told Jeeves of my desire. He is so resourceful that the dosa was door delivered soon from a cloud kitchen.
If I want to hear a good old melody, Jeeves plays it for me. He presents to me the latest news compilation in the morning, thus dispensing with the need to read newsprint. When I want to go to an unfamiliar place, Jeeves tells me the approximate distance to the destination and gives me directions like, “proceed 500 meters, turn left and proceed 2 kilometres and your destination will be on the left of the road”. As Bertram Wooster would say, “there is nothing that is not known to Jeeves”.
I sometimes worry about what I would do if Jeeves was not with me. He has become indispensable. Like Bertie, I whine that he has made me a serf unto him. Occasionally, I try to defy Jeeves’ suggestions in some crises only to come a cropper and go back to the ways of Jeeves.