I realized that my addiction to my iPhone is supreme and profound when I was late for a screening yesterday. I had run upstairs three times to “find it” and of course never did. I had no idea where it was. Driving out to Burbank without it was a palm-sweating experience. It’s like going out without any underwear on. The feeling was the same, even if the potential for public humiliation was nowhere near.
I had been cursing my iPhone earlier, or certainly Apple after they forced me to upgrade to the new iPhone 4 firmware. And thus, my phone is all messed up. It drops during calls, restarts all of the time for no reason and is slow on top of that.
I do like the new changes — the all-inclusive mailbox and such. But oy, it’s almost useless in its current state.
I tried to the so-called fix on LifeHacker but that only works for 3G phones. I could jailbreak mine and downgrade it but I don’t want to do that since it’s still under warranty.
I could go into the Apple store but then I have to deal with the condescending, snooty, semi-indifferent staff. I hate dealing with customer service in the store because they make you feel like a total moron based on how you look.
If you walk in with horn-rimmed glasses, a flattop, Converse sneakers and tight-ish jeans they mistake you for someone technologically inclined. If you walk in looking like a valley mom with flip-flops, no pedicure, unwashed hair and bags under your eyes, not to mention the rest of it – they mistake for someone who doesn’t know how to update software or firmware. I have actually taken apart an iPod and fixed it myself so I am not exactly a no-nothing.
Rather than deal with the fuckwads at the store I have been relying on Google.
All of this to say that I was already mad at my iPhone. The truth is that even a broke’d and fuct iPhone is better than no iPhone at all.
The addiction is real. I may have to seek therapy.