While minding my own business the other day, I was approached with the slow solemnity of someone with something of great import to share. Recognizing that there was about to be A Moment – demanding homage and a proper sense of occasion – I stopped doing whatever it was that I had been doing in order to devote all of my attention to it.
On my friend’s face was an expression of immense pride along with a healthy dose of wonderment and awe. The same sort of expression that you’d see on the face of a first-time father who has just counted all of the baby’s fingers and toes and successfully arrived at a figure of twenty. His posture was slightly bent forward, his whole body forming a subtle protective shield around his hands. And in his hands was a new phone.
“The new iPhone 4S”, he proclaimed quietly, using a tender voice that is usually reserved for saying things like “don’t wake it”. He then rattled off some specs using long words and technical jargon during which my eyes glazed over. I compensated for this lack of interest by holding out my hand so that he could gingerly place the iPhone 4S into it.
It is pretty. I do want one. The weight of it feels so luxurious. I love the simplicity of the design and all of the best applications are written for it. Other phones pale – it is the end-all be-all of everything that a modern gadget should represent. I recognize this. Upon handing it back, The Gloater pressed a button and asked the Siri application to marry him. Siri responded in a soothing but firm tone that her contractual obligations prevented her from entering into a legal arrangement of that nature, but thank you all the same. Unperturbed and positively glowing with obnoxious levels of techie-dorked out bliss, he shared that he was the happiest that he’s ever been and what a shame that I couldn’t get an iPhone because I will never know the joy. How sad for me.
This cut to the core.
I cannot have an iPhone because iPhone does not support Lotus Notes. The better part of my week has been spent frantically researching ways around this. Lotus Notes completely blows. The calendar function is total crap, the interface has failed to keep up with modern sensibilities and is therefore 100% UNintuitive and only one corporation on the planet still uses it. I, ladies and gentlemen, work for that lone corporation. Yes, you can route mail through a pop and bypass Lotus Notes altogether. What you cannot do is route it through the pop and still use the calendar function for more than one user in a successful two-way dialogue between Lotus Notes and the second party email provider and then back again. Well, you can, but only by paying $79 and then subscribing to the service that will do it for you. And I want an iPhone, just not quite that badly. Not yet.
Last night I was again minding my own business when I was interrupted by a voice behind me –
“Siri, open the pod bay doors.” He then stood quietly with a smirk of confident anticipation. Siri didn’t say whatever it was he was expecting so he asked her again. And then again. And then he retreated. Several minutes later he returned, wiggling with poorly restrained glee.
“Siri, what is the meaning of life?” He held the phone out so that I wouldn’t miss the response…
“I find it odd that you would ask this of an inanimate object.”
He grinned triumphantly at me. I grinned back at him. He grinned at me. I grinned wider back at him and his grin faded ever so slightly.
“Wait…am I the source of amusement here, or is it the phone?” As this is the kind of question that it’s best not to answer, I ignored it. Perhaps he should have asked Siri.
So today I’m going to run out at lunch and get a fancy new blackberry through AT&T. My employer will be paying for this and I’m excited about not having a cell phone bill. And I am excited about a new phone because mine has been dropped on its head one too many times and has to be held together while conducting telephone conversations. And I’m excited about a shiny new number, maybe I can finally snag 687-5309.
But I am sorry about not being able to get an iPhone. Deeply sorry. With a sorrow that begins in the very marrow of my being and radiates outwards in devastating waves of woe.
(RIP, Nokia. You took a beating like a champ.)