When You Realize You're an Addict and You Need Help...Or A Loud Voice To Get Attention at the Apple Store

The one doctor says, "It's official...instead of sex, men now think about the iPhone every seven seconds." The other doctor thinks to herself, "It's not just men."

Ba dumb dumb ch'.

For the last three weeks, my iPhone has decided it wanted to impersonate my Subaru before I had her fixed. Every day, the phone does something new - and it's shut itself down, stopped receiving phone calls, and indoctrinated itself in a land of Sim-Card oblivion. Despite three trips to Sprint, nothing was resolved. "We ran a diagnostic test, Mr. Crandall. The phone is testing fine."

BUT IT ISN'T WORKING.

I have lost texts, phone calls, and opportunities to check correctness online all because of the haphazard behavior of the phone. Actually, I almost throttled Chitunga's neck when he didn't arrive on the train as he was supposed to and when I sat in the parking lot waiting for him for over an hour - he never showed. It turned out he was texting and calling me, but I didn't receive any of the messages.

So, I realize I'm an addict. Not an addict, a total dependent. When I don't have my iPad or laptop (like in my car), I rely on the constant connectivity of the phone. The ebb and flow of everything I do is through technology, and when I'm denied its use, I self combust. I don't like this about myself, but it's true. The umbilical chord is attached to machines and a machine life is how we now live.

Picture Bryan being firm  at the Apple Store. "I'm sorry, I don't understand what you mean when you say you can't get me in for an appointment for two weeks. I am here right now. The phone is dead, and I need another one. I am leaving this week and need my phone."

"Sir, we only take appointments when they are scheduled online."

"Worker, this is true. And I would schedule an appointment online if I could get online with my phone. I am in FRONT OF YOU, however, and I can see the booger in your nose. I"m not, NOT, leaving until I get a new phone."

"Just a second. We have an opening in ten minutes."

The phone was a dud. The Apple clinician couldn't get it to work, either. And it was under warrantee. The switch was easy. Fast. Apple redeemed itself and made me happy. I've been loyal to them for two decades for a reason.

Then I went home to mow the leaves and, of course, the mower exploded --- well, at least the spark plug. A trip to Home Depot later, it began to work again. The leaves have been chopped.

I wish for the days when life was only paper and pen, and not digital composition, but times have changed and my brain has adapted to the constant light and need of fingers. It is where I am right now. I'd love to disconnect, but disconnecting is not an option. And therefore, I'm an addict. I am thinking about my digital tools every seven seconds, as do we all.

Sad, but true.