For those of you who don’t know, Apple recently came out
with a new operating system for their products, iOS5. While the name of their
new system looks like a toddler smashed his fist on a keyboard in the throes
of a tantrum, Apple is a huge, worldwide corporation and can apparently name their
products whatever they please.
Like everybody else, I jumped on the new iAsdfoijwe6923idfn
bandwagon and downloaded the update to my iPhone. Pretty quickly, I realized
that part of the program wasn’t operating correctly so I decided to call to the
support line and subsequently spent 20 minutes of my life chatting with the tech
about what it’s like to live in Minnesota while the specialized technicians
tried to figure out a solution to my problem.
But then our cell phone (which serves as a home line)
beeped in my ear and I realized that it was about to die. Things looked
promising with the changes we’d made to my iPhone so I signed off and hoped
that everything would start to work with a wave of my magic wand.
Unfortunately, my iWand failed… probably because it’s a
futuristic Apple product that hasn’t yet been made to replace support techs.
APPLE, I AM TOTALLY PATENTING THIS IDEA. DIBS.
I waited for Jonathan to come home since I didn’t know where
the power cord was stored for our home phone and begged the use of his
Blackberry to finish this painful process. That’s when I learned that calling Apple
support in the evening is a very bad idea. After I had aged roughly ten years, the technician finally came on the phone and though he wanted to
be helpful, couldn’t reach the specialists because they were too busy.
After suffering through another century of being on hold, he finally passed the
call off to his supervisor.
That’s when the unthinkable happened. Suddenly, without the decency of a warning or the courtesy of a HEADS UP, MORON!, I heard a beep which was followed immediately by deafening silence. The Blackberry ran out of
battery and died right there in my hands.
That may have been the point where I lost it and screamed
something about worthless phones and burning in hell. Yes, that was directed at
the Blackberry… and anyone within a fifty-mile radius of my temper tantrum.
Naturally, it took time to find the power cords to the
Blackberry and the home phone and, by that point, the woman I had been speaking
with was no longer available. I left a message and then simmered dinner on the
stove with my burning hatred of all things electronic.
I wasn’t exactly pleasant to be around for the rest of the
evening, what with spending an obscene portion of my day trying to get to the
root of my phone problems while simultaneously dealing with some epic toddler
tantrums. Finally, once the kids were in bed and I was enjoying my peace and
quiet, I turned to the comforting arms of the Internet… and realized that it
was down. Again.
Trying to remember that four-letter words weren’t going to
help the situation, I contacted our Internet provider who, at ten-thirty at
night, looked up our account and informed me that we have problems with our
modem. Basically, our modem has about as much value as last month’s newspaper.
Or, in toddler-speak, it went BOOM.
That’s when I realized what was really happening: our modem,
the worthless piece of junk sitting in my laundry room, had been causing the
problems all along- not my iPhone. All of my angst and fury yesterday afternoon was completely
unwarranted except, perhaps, that which was directed at the Blackberry from
hell.
May it die a thousand horrible deaths.
More importantly, my attitude last evening was inexcusable.
Moping around and being snippy with my husband over a few wasted hours? What
kind of an example did that set for my kids, especially our toddler whose
watchful eyes overlook nothing?
I’m not proud of the way that I acted yesterday. In fact,
I’m more than a little embarrassed to admit how easily I threw in the towel and
quit trying. But today is a new day and a fresh start. I have perspective on
the situation and the forgiveness of a husband who is far more patient than
myself. Finally, I’m resolving not to let the hormones or the perpetual exhaustion of motherhood get the best of me, especially as I begin plotting an “accident” for a
particular mobile device.
Here Blackberry, Blackberry, Blackberry...
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