Ah? Is My Phone a Sperm?

My mobile phone has become a genius, and I am still an all-round white-haired man. He can help me write plans, annoy colleagues, and make enemies. He has helped me go straight from a social worker to the pinnacle of life. Until I found out that he secretly deleted things behind my back - not junk files, but my memories. Now I'm panicking. Is this a thoughtful plug-in, or is it a scary butler who wants to train me into a perfect loser?