So last night Jody got her iPhone. I had visited the Apple store two times in less than six hours hours that day and our visit at 7 p.m. was the third, two too many.
9 a.m. I had accompanied Jody to her One on One Mac counseling session: she is trying to create her own website.
1 p.m I had gone back there to check out buying Jody an iPhone Gift Card so she could configure it to her needs.
7 p.m I had to go with her to do the actual deed. I had resigned myself to the fact that the iPhone was going to be her deal. I would not learn anything about it and would not be able to help her. It it was about time she dealt with technology.
The next morning she came downstairs in her pajamas and announced,”I don’t know how to get on the Internet.” It was as if she had had insomnia all night thinking about her dilemma and wanted to dump it on my lap.
I took her gently by the shoulders and looked directly into her eyes. “I don’t know how to help you. This is your deal, OK?”
She seemed to acquiesce. An hour later I got a phone call on my new Blackberry while I was making rounds at the hospital.
“What is your password for our network?” she asked. No hello, and ultimately, after I told her it was “katman2”, no goodbye. All my passwords are variations and vestiges of a trip we had made to Kathmandu in 1996. As I hung up, I commented to anyone who would listen, two fellow pediatricians and a nurse, that “I guess after thirteen years of marriage I should not expect a goodbye.”
The scene, a hospital holiday party. Booze. Good food. Camaraderie. Jody walks in and gets a glass of red wine and within five minutes was standing at a table comparing iPhone apps with two other iPhone owners. They were ensconced in deep technologically-incomprehensible discussion for half an hour. There was no interrupting them.
iPhones encourage anti-social behavior. It was difficult to disengage the three of them so engrossed were they in possibility.
Meanwhile, I had been struggling with my Blackberry. Major trouble trying to synch it with my MacBook. Over a five day period I spoke with technical help (transferred from Verizon to the “highest level of Blackberry support”). Over two days case #85035678 embroiled me in three hours of conversation with a supposed wizard.
The problem turned out to be an issue with my computer: my user ID had been “corrupted”, thus not permitting proper synchronization.
Jody claimed that I had been grumpy all week as a result of:
- Wasting time with tech support when I had other things to do.
- The fact that I did not own an iPhone. Which synced itself without a thought. Jody assured me that if she “put a contact into my phone, it shows up on the computer in thirty seconds. I don’t even have to think about it.”
True, I felt elated when the Genius corrected the problem but I still have significant trepidation of trying the synchronization on my own. What if it doesn’t work? It is an echo from the last lines of Peter Ustinov’s telling of Peter and the Wolf I recall from my youth. Indeed, what then?