We live in a society exquisitely dependent on science and technology, in which hardly anyone knows anything about science and technology. – Carl Sagan
Well, it’s happened. I’ve drunk the Kool-Aid. Day before yesterday, I bought an iPhone 7.
I held out for as long as I could, but the time came when I felt I simply had to buy a new phone. My existing phone was on its last legs. Its coughing kept me up at night. But I was reluctant to buy an iPhone for several reasons: A) The Android phones are less expensive than iPhones and I’m a cheapskate; B) I have had a version of an Android phone for as long as I’ve had a cell phone so I’m used to how they work in general and I’m scared of learning new technology; and C) being the daughter of Margaret and Reinie, I am stubborn, and not in a good way. I’m stubborn in the way that keeps me from reading the Harry Potter books because everyone else is reading them, or from buying a gas range because everyone on Food Network says you simply can’t be a decent cook without a Viking gas range and REALLY GOOD OLIVE OIL. So, I’m the kind of stubborn that keeps me from buying an iPhone because it’s what EVERYONE ELSE has.
But I’m sad to keep coming home to six or seven missed FaceTime calls from Kaiya and/or Mylee who can’t understand why Nana doesn’t answer their FaceTime calls despite the fact that I have explained that I can only answer FaceTime when I’m next to my iPad. So now I can answer FaceTime calls when I’m standing in line at CVS Pharmacy, which will annoy Stan and Irma from Murdock Lakes, Minnesota, who are standing behind me in line. They will be annoyed that is, until I show them Mylee’s cute face. “Oh, ya, talk all ya want to that cutie pie,” they will say to me. Right.
I bought the white phone with the rose gold back, and a pink protective shell. Go big, or go home. It pales in comparison to my pink Kitchen Aid mixer, but it is pink nonetheless. I could have chosen silver or gold instead of what they call rose gold, but I went for the gusto. I found myself justifying my choice of the pink protective shell to Bill, despite the fact that he didn’t say one single solitary word about my selection (and, in fact, encouraged me to buy the rose gold version of the phone). But while standing in line awaiting my iced coffee at Starbucks to kill time while the smart people at T-Mobile transferred my information from old phone to new phone, I sternly told myself, “Kris, you chose pink all around because you are a fan of pink and there’s no reason to apologize for that. Neither Barbie nor my great niece Lilly apologizes for their fondness of the color.” So my apologist tour was short-lived.
But then I got home and found myself staring at the phone with total and complete terror. “Think of it as a little miniature iPad,” Jen told me when she learned of my purchase. It’s good advice, except here’s the thing: my mind is very compartmentalized, and one of its compartments was focused on how you work a little piece of technology that is six inches high and three inches wide, and that resulted in my poking nonexistent buttons on my iPhone which HAD existed on my Galaxy 4S and which I’d been poking for five years or so.
Little by little, I am learning more about the phone. What I have learned thus far is that there are things that I will miss on my Galaxy 4S and things that I will love on my iPhone. When I was at the Apple store a week or so ago waiting to meet my sister Bec (who ALSO recently purchased an iPhone and an updated iPad; her old iPad was run by little hamsters on a treadmill), I noticed a class that consisted of new Apple technology users about my age being taught by 17-year-old Apple employees with pimply faces who kept pushing their glasses up their noses. A class like that might await me. Those youngsters seemed nice, if a bit wet behind their ears.
In the meantime, if I don’t respond to your texts or voice messages, give me time. I will figure it out.
Hmmm. Voice messages. Our kids don’t even know what those are. Steve Jobs is rolling in his grave.