“You’re resistant to technology, aren’t you?”
A new coworker asked me that on the way to lunch when, at a stop light, I looked over at a driver next to us who was texting, and I started to scold her through the closed windows.
When various friends of mine realize I got a smartphone a year ago, their reactions ranged from surprise to flat out amazement. Receiving a text from me is not unlike receiving a text from your grandmother.
But in recent months, I’ve found myself bombarded with not just technology, but the very best KIND of technology: What I’ve begun to refer to as iShit.
My first iShit came with the new job. All employees received an iPad. Then, for our wedding, my husband bought me a iPod. Then, when Sprint bought out U.S. Cellular in our market and we had to switch phone companies, Spring offered hella good deals, and I found myself with an iPhone 5 that I spent only $100 on.
The iPad, I can take or leave (scandalous, I know, but everything I want it to do, my phone or my laptop does better). My iPod is awesome and has made walking (I loathe exercise, but I’m trying — baby steps) not just tolerable, but enjoyable.
But my iPhone. Oh, my iPhone.
I love him. Yes, it’s a him, I just right now this very moment decided my iPhone is a gay man because he. Is. FABULOUS. I’ve actually been counting my calories since I got the little bugger (oh, that is unfortunate wording) because of my LIVESTRONG app, and it has been working (when we got back from the honeymoon in mid-May, I was at my scary weight. I’m 10 pounds down now.)
I actually downloaded a book on Trevor (just named him, after Neville Longbottom’s pet toad) a few weekends ago on a train from Chicago. I didn’t want to lug the book I’m currently reading (Somerset Maugham’s “Of Human Bondage” is seriously glorious, but a doorstop even in paperback), but iBooks had a free version. (I’m reading both versions now, depending where I am. The book is far superior, but I like the e-version more than I ever would have thought. It comes in handy when I’m waiting for something.)
My husband and I just joined our bank accounts, and our only worry was how to manage two people using one checking account. My Wells Fargo app tells me our balance any time I want. My Bloglovin app means I read the blogs I love more than I ever have.
This is not meant to sound so advertorial. I’m not trying to pimp my favorite apps. I’m just sharing my wonder with you that … I reeeeeally love Trevor.
But no worries, the Old Me is still in there. I still want to slap anyone who texts at the dinner table across the face. (But I won’t … my boss, who is amazing, uses his iPhone like an extension of his hand. I swear, medical journals could do studies on him, and he does this indiscriminately — whether he’s talking to his employees or his superiors, he don’t judge.)
For the first time in my life … I don’t like forgetting my phone at home. I’m not terribly pleased with that. I DO, however, like that I have this awesome resource at my fingertips.
It still makes me want to go send a snail mail rightnow. Or maybe a telegram. (Which actually still exists — but not for long.)
So yes, I’m resistant to technology. But I’m getting better. And when the app that lets you disapparate debuts, I will be all over that thing.