Today, a recent poll from coworkers within my department who also have iPhones revealed that I am the only one stupid enough to regularly (attempt to) update my phone’s iOS software. Always a catastrophe and never an over-exaggeration, the process of updating this software equates to a lifetime in an endless abyss of faulty Internet connections and blank-staring Apple support personnel.
I approach these updates grimly, especially after the first time updating the phone took more than two hours. Nowadays I take care to fit updates into my schedule only upon making peace with the fact it will mind-numbingly erase a few hours out of my life to do so. Today, I’m going for the world record of one whole day! That’s right, bloggers – I haven’t had my phone for almost an entire day. And I’m still functioning. Muahahaha!
Don’t look so scared; maniacal titters are how I always laugh…
It’s honestly unnecessary to back away slowly like that. I’m fine. I’m fiiiiine!
I know I’ve become overly reliant on technology when I forget how to use old methods of communication. Scarcely will I call anyone, even Clayton (Why should I when I get to hear “Just Another Night” by the Real McCoy if I hold out until he calls me?) when texting is available, and you mean to tell me there’s an actual website for Pinterest and not just an app? Ah, but I have to be near a computer. And here I was thinking all dinosaurs were extinct.
Some (all) say I’m on my phone too much, as was the case when we went to South Dakota last weekend. On the drive there, Clayton looked at me cautiously as if approaching a newborn baby before gently (with terror flooding his facial features) saying, “Now, when we’re on this vacation, I don’t want to see you on the phone the whole time…”
Cue my response (“Of course, no problem!”) as horror drained all blood from my face. Quickly looking away, I had to refrain from tucking and rolling out of the car right then and there.
Back to present day. My updating woes began again yesterday when I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. When more than one app has a red dot (or is it a star, oh, GOD, I’m already forgetting!!!) next to it, I slowly drive myself crazy not being able to update, especially if an iTunes connection is needed and I’m nowhere around a dinosaur. Now I know what you’re thinking: Drive yourself crazy? Girl, you hit crazy five paragraphs ago.
If so, that craziness is justified as my latest update went horribly wrong and my phone was unable to connect to the computer long enough to finish before going into an emergency shut-down. I lost everything. EVERYTHING. Cue my fairly reasonable, dignified response: falling to my knees, hands reaching dramatically upward, cursing the sky.
Still I kept my cool (really, I did) and decided to restart the computer and phone, plug them back in and see what the next day brought. I woke up to no alarm because of course it’s on the phone, which no longer provided me anything more than a conveniently flat skipping stone just begging to be thrown into the nearest lake. As we got ready for work, I made certain to passive-aggressively tell Clayton (within earshot of my phone, still pathetically attached to the computer):
“You know what? No, I don’t even want it anymore. That’ll show it. Ya hear me? (slyly glancing in the direction of the phone) Don’t connect with the computer for all I care; you’re nothing to me! Nothing!”
“Is it working?” I whispered to Clay out of the corner of my mouth, pretending to slip on heels without a care in the world, humming cheerfully, even.
“Nope!” he replied back, joy in his eyes but also…was that fear?
I flounced from the room. “Good. Excellent. Why use a phone when I have a computer at work?” I said. “I DON’T NEED YOU!” I shouted in the direction of the phone while viciously attacking my hair with a brush in the bathroom.
Clayton began to look worried.
Taking stock of the situation, I realized that the relationship I had with my phone constantly fluctuated between a horrible domestic relationship and a parent/child relationship.
Horrible domestic relationship
- I’m in constant denial. I often find myself thinking I can change it, or that updating is going to be different this time. This frame of thought quickly turns to self-doubt. (Is it something I did? Did I not plug it in tightly enough? I can change; I swear!)
- I’m pretty sure Clayton thinks it’s the “other guy” in our relationship, which is fair enough because sometime I sneak off with it so he doesn’t see I’m using it so much.
- Trying to work on the relationship (update the phone) ends with a bad connection every time.
- Over-emotional yelling and crying mixed with obscenities and empty threats have become standard.
- So has immediately forgiving and forgetting once things go back to normal.
- When my phone refuses to “talk” to my computer, I have to remind it to play nice.
- I stay with it when it’s down for the count and unable to update, holding it steadily to the port like a mother would hold her child’s hand when he or she is sick.
- I say encouraging things to it even though I know it’ll never be good at soccer.
- As it gets older and stops obeying my commands, I constantly find myself crying “What do you want from me?!”
- Like a mother sends her kid to school for the first time, I decide the phone will be ok updating itself too early, only to find it won’t ever do so unless I’m in the room. Finally, I find myself making the “stay” motion with both of my hands, cautiously and carefully, desperately trying not to disturb it before saying “I’m just going into the bathroom to do my hair and make-up. If you need me, I’ll be here in a second!”
- After it’s been bad and won’t update, I tell it defiantly that “No, we are not stopping at Apple now, and no dessert for you!”
- If Clay tries to approach the phone when an update is in process, I hush him before whispering, “It’s very shy – shhh, you might scare it!” When Clayton says he can fix it, I then tell him that it will update when it’s ready.
- With my computer ready to crash any day, I’m convinced my phone is hanging out with the wrong crowd.
I’m glad this is a three-day weekend, because I’m sure I’ll be spending at least another day daring, betting, praying and begging that iTunes progress bar to make it all the way to “Finish.”
Until then, I better wrangle myself up a fashionable straight jacket.