I'm in an abusive relationship with my iPhone. I've been living with this secret shame for a long time, thinking it was okay, it was just my own private little problem. But it's come to my attention Apple's having a grand old time in this economy, thanks to brisk sales of iPhones. This has got to stop.
My story began like so many others, with a giddy honeymoon period. I loved the portable email, ditched my old Filofax, and shot way too many photos, just because I could. I'd thought I'd found my soul mate. But then it started failing me.
It started with dropped calls, which I rationalized were AT&T's fault. Then it started acting out whenever I checked my email, taking forever to load a simple message, or worse yet, delivering phantom emails from "No Sender," with nothing inside but the cryptic note, "This message has no content," often in bundles of five or six. Thanks, but I don't need the mind games.
I've tried to work on the relationship. I've had several sessions with Apple's trained "Geniuses," who've been more than sympathetic and accommodating, earnestly running tests and reinstalling software, even discouraging me from acting on my natural, if twisted, impulse to buy a newer iPhone.
"Don't do that," the last Genius said in a hushed, concerned tone. But don't you see? That only made me more love Apple more, for hiring people who have so much compassion. We've been involved now for over 20 years. Exclusively!
That's right. I've never owned a PC, never owned a Blackberry, and I don't think it's fair to count a brief experimental period with a Palm Pilot. I was young.
After every Genius appointment, things get a little better, but just as I'm lulled into a state of security, another glitch will pop up, each one more mystifying than the last. I hit a new low last week when I opened up my iPhone case to find a big, deep scratch across the screen. I have no idea how this happened, but whenever someone asks me, I feel like I'm lying to protect my abuser.
Maybe I should make up a story.
Why do I stay if I'm so unhappy? The same reason I robotically hit "yes" on a monthly basis when my trusty, months-old iMac asks if I want to install the latest software upgrade. I want to believe that things can get better. Nor can I physically resist the urge to replace my gorgeous, expensive computers every 18-months or so, despite all the upgrades and empty promises that the newest models run faster, have more memory, and crash less frequently. It's never true, but I fall for it every time. And so the cycle continues.
I guess that deep down, I'm secretly hoping that Apple will change into the benevolent, reliable, hippy-ish co-op I fell in love with. That it'll stop, just STOP, forcing me to endlessly upgrade the software and replace the hardware, and just work well for a long time. Is it too much to ask? After all, I don't stand for this kind of treatment from my refrigerator, or my TV, or my car.
I was having lunch with a friend yesterday who waited for the appropriate time to pull out her Blackberry and check her email. I responded in kind with my iPhone. There she was, chuckling over her latest crop, and efficiently thumbing away replies, while I stared at my cracked screen, watching the scroll wheel spin and spin, as if huffing and puffing to retrieve mine. I sat there, sighing with disgust, like the long-suffering wife I am. I could get a divorce, start fresh, if only I had the courage.
I know in my bones that iPhone sales are up because millions of long-suffering wives are so disgusted with their "old" iPhones that they're replacing them with the newest model. And if that's not genius, then I don't know what is.