Inside the mind of CU’s tech head
My eyes lit up as they glazed over the screen once again. A brand spankin’ new iPod that uses the same technology as the iPhone. Beautiful. Give me one now, or at least let me pre-order for Sept. 28.
I clicked on the button for the Apple store, but to my dismay, it wouldn’t go. I clicked again. I have worked with computers for a very long time, I knew clicking again wasn’t going to help, but I tried anyway. What does it take for Apple to take my money, anyway? Am I going to have to beg?
I closed out of Firefox and opened Safari. I knew it wasn’t going to help, but I needed my new iTouch. I need that lethal injection of toxic technology to sedate me. I need the cool new gadget. I need to feel like I’m better than all of those mindless drones on their old iPods. Twenty gigabytes? Sixty gigabytes? One hundred-eighty gigabytes? Go, you missive hordes. Go and plug into your Peer-2-Peer programs. Download at will. Suck up your roommate’s-who-is-trying-to-get-laid-and-needs-to-browse-dating-sites bandwidth. Fill up your massive iDump with all the music you will never listen to again after the 30-second sample. All I need is my eight gigabytes, just enough to fit all of the good songs and none of the slough.
I had to go. I couldn’t just keep sitting here in my office clicking buttons, waiting for Apple to restore their Web site so that I might purchase my new iDrug. I closed my browser and left.
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I went to the Campus Press newsroom to fiddle around with some broken laptops. I took the battery out of the white MacBook, which could not seem to stay on for longer than two minutes. I smelled the inside of the case, just for a moment, and I smelled the sweet iAroma of Apple technology. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on my succulent new iTreat.
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I met up with my girlfriend outside of the Hellems building. I busted out my laptop and showed her the brand new iTouch.
“See,” I said. “Look at it. Look at this beauty. It is so pristine and ready for my enjoyment.”
She looked at me with a puzzled expression, as she tends to do when I am so iOverjoyed.
“You know,” she said. “It’s really just kind of a glorified PDA.”
I was dumbstruck.
“A-a-a glorified PDA?”
I stammered.
“This is more than just a PDA, mind you,” I said with resolute distinction. “This is a work of art. I can touch it and move the icons around. I can browse the Internet from my iPod! Do you have any idea how iRevolutionary this is? A PDA is like a Palm Pilot, or a Compaq something-or-other. This is incredible.”
She just shrugged
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I sat in my office, brooding, waiting for the right moment. Pre-order? Don’t pre-order? Go wait to see it in the store? I mean, I’ve already seen the delightful gadgetry of the iPhone. The iTouch is not much different. Just no phone. I definitely needed a new phone, of course, but I couldn’t justify the price of switching to AT&T. I mean, my girlfriend is on my network, (Who is standing behind me, watching me type this. Of course I can hear you now, don’t be stupid, you’re standing right next to me) and I can call her for free. Perfect for when she’s walking home and decides her toenails look oh-so-perfect in the setting sun and she needs to tell me about it right away. Do I really want to pay more for my snazzy iPhone and service just to brag to her about my new iPhone? I was becoming disillusioned. I needed a break from the iHeadache.
So I headed down to my local Apple store to take a look at the iPhone. It was shiny and bright, as usual, and when I touched it, it warmed to me. It told me stories of megabytes and Digital Rights Management and it said nice things to me and told me I was a pretty girl and it wanted to get to know me better. It bought me a cup of coffee.
When it was all said and done, my examination was again complete, the iPhone and I said our farewells. I swung my messenger bag around and began to pull out my iPod –then stopped. My iPod was nearly four generations old, and had my name engraved in the back (“Jason Bartz. Rocking your Socks.”). I thought to myself: can I really give up something so trustworthy, something that has worked so well for so many years? This iPod has been dropped, beaten, taken on planes, been to Europe and back, roughed up inside my backpack, had water (beer) splashed on it. One time I even threw it across the room because it was misbehaving quite to my distaste. (Hey, I’m a technology writer; I have that kind of power). No. Just no. I could not give up something that had worked so well for so long. The iTouch and iPhone would have to wait.
I plugged in my earphones and hit the play button. Nothing happened. I held down the menu button and the center circle to reset the iPod. A display came on; the Apple logo shone bright for a moment. The Apple logo then disappeared and the display showed a folder and next to the folder a triangle with an exclamation point inside it: the symbol of doom for any iPod.
I growled in iAnger and shook my iFist. I dropped my iPod with a loud iThunk back into my bag.
I walked down the street and thought quietly to myself: Pre-order.
Jason Bartz is the Campus Press Tech Editor and programmer and is dedicated to fighting for more, useless technology that he can destroy and potentially write about.Jason.Bartz@thecampuspress.com
