Old Man and the T

My phone's text messaging function has this setting that will try and guess the word you want to type when you put in a combination for letters. For instance, if I type in the letters "tod" the little word wizard genius algorithm in my phone will complete the word, lickity split, with "ay." I am sure some scientist technician crew have figured out all the most common words for common letter combinations when people communicate and plugged their findings into the software. Its pretty ingenious I suppose. Since I don't use text messaging all that much (my fingers are Australia-sized and my brain is fundamentally slow for these sorts of things) one might figure this kind of little function should be pretty helpful to a troglodyte like me.
Unfortunately, I usually miss out on the preemptive word gremlin and go about typing the whole word, realizing only as I hit the last letter that the phone has been yelling at me that it knew what I wanted to say, like, five letters and twenty seconds ago.
But the other night I needed to text my wife something important and I remembered, before typing, that little helpful word guy was in there.
I don't know how most people text, but I like to be pretty formal when writing things, no matter the format, so I start my message with 'Hello." Thinking I am a pretty savvy technological savant, I type in "He," figuring that the socio-science crew has figured out that someone starting out a message with "He" would want to say "Hello."
Instead, I get "Help."
That was pretty funny to me at first but then I thought about it and, well, yeah I guess "Help" would probably be a pretty great thing to have just pop up when you need it. Imagine being caught in the rubble of an earthquake. Or being followed by an assassin. Or needing an extra hand with those cupcakes you pre-ordered from the overpriced, under tasty cupcake maker. Being able to discreetly or quickly type out "Help" would be pretty keen.
"Damn," I thought, "those socio-dictionario-scientificos really know their shit," and so here I am marveling, once again at the greatness of our modern technological lives, thinking we really do live in a progressive age of understanding and comprehension.
At this point I am sure I am in a safe place in more ways than one so I type in "Hel," confident that my new technological friends at the cell-phone lab are in tune with the basic needs of man, operating below the radar to create some kind of new fantastical intuitive utopia, sure that the next logical word in any communication will be the one I am waiting for.
Instead, I get "Hella."