A lighthearted look at news, events, culture and everyday life in New York.
By Nina Pajak
Well, I did it. Or should I say, iDid it?
In keeping with my long tradition of adamantly refusing to keep up with the times or acknowledging the inevitably that I will ultimately fall in line, then contradicting myself years later, I have officially become the owner of a touch screen phone.
Not just any touch screen phone. The iPhone 4s.
Yeah, yeah, I know. They’re coming out with a new one in, like, five minutes. Talk to me in two more years. By then, I’ll be attached to a hopelessly outdated iPhone and the rest of you will all have long had yours surgically implanted into your retinas. And this one is really going to last forever. I let the hopelessly enthusiastic Verizon guy upsell me on a “lifeproof” case that can withstand being submerged in water, hurled against a wall, and buried in snow. I’m thinking of using it as bait when I go up to the Berkshires next weekend.
I wasn’t just faking it before, when I proclaimed my utter lack of desire to own one of these thingamajigs. I was very attached to my BlackBerry, for better or for worse. But ultimately, after it ceased to receive or send emails or messages of any sort, and it spontaneously restarted itself for the fiftieth time, and I almost got kicked out of a meeting for click clacking away during someone’s presentation in an attempt to quietly multitask like everyone else in my office, I realized that staying the course was no longer an option. And if I got the same phone as the majority of my friends and alive humans have, I’d save money on text messages and blahblahblah. Plus, I was tired of having to borrow from people in order to play Angry Birds and take Instagram photos. Okay? I admit it. Everything looks cooler in a retro film setting.
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Also, do you have any idea how angry it makes iPhone people to encounter someone who still has a malfunctioning BlackBerry? So angry. I have had people yell at me, call me ignorant and ridiculous, hound and harass me, try to make me feel left out or guilty, and generally scoff at my life choices in general as an extension of my poor phone-related judgement. And those are just my close friends. I’d had no idea this was such a hot button issue for so many people, and I have to say I’ll miss the easy opportunity to provoke and gall my loved ones. Then again, now they’ll all shut up.
As my first order of business, I downloaded a billion apps, then sloooooowly sent typo-ridden text messages to everyone who has been haranguing me about getting an iPhone, and finally, used Instagram to post a vintage-fitted photo of my Hale & Heart salad to Twitter. That’s what we iPhone people do, right? Share cool-looking pictures of really banal things on social media? I’m into it. Just wait until I break out the oyster crackers. #Photoopp!
I have yet to ask anything of Siri, though the Verizon guy made the point of warning me that she would not, as John Malkovich would have us believe in his creepy commercials, give me life advice or tell me a joke. I’m holding off on talking to her right now. I don’t want her knowing too much about my life before I’ve gotten to know her a little better. You know what I always say. You can’t trust a robot with anything other than cat identification.
Dear Readers: While I am rarely at a loss for words, I’m always grateful for column ideas. Please feel free to e-mail me your suggestions.
Nina Pajak is a writer and publishing professional living with her husband on the Upper West Side.
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