I was an early adopter of the iPhone, but I can’t say I’ve been a power user. I’m more of a terminal beginner.
If you’ve been listening to me, you know that I’m repelled by charismatic narcissists. I maintain a hypervigilant scan of my surroundings in order to detect and dismiss these people. I am wary of gurus.
Imagine my delight Wednesday night at Liberty when the talk turned, as it inevitably does, to our beloved iPhones, and I found myself sitting next to a true Jedi master. Charismatic, yes. But no narcissism, no self-aggrandizing BS, nothing to sell. There he was, my Yoda of the iPhone, Eric M.
He asked me casually if I had 2.0 installed, and I said I Think So, but of course I didn’t really know what I was talking about, and I didn’t have it. With a tiny move of the hand, his own iPhone appeared, I’m not sure from where. Then he made a Yoda-like gesture toward the phone and magical things started to happen. In a flicker he produced a widget that would tell me the dewpoint, and I was dazzled. Dewpoint forms the infrastructure of my entire existence.
Then he showed me how he could make the iPhone act as a remote control that integrates into the sound system in his house, only he said it in a much cooler way. He told me I could do all these same things if only I believed in myself.
He got distracted for a minute because Liberty is right under the airport flight path and he had to help a Sun Country pilot with his final approach. Then he turned back toward me.
He showed me some more buttons, and talked in a gentle, non-forceful way about how we all have the ability to cause miracles with our iPhones. At one point he turned software into beer and slaked his own thirst - a kind of 21st century transubstantiation.
I left Liberty full of wonderment, and black raspberry custard with whipped cream.
When I got home I started to download 2.0 with a newfound confidence. Eric M had said it would take a while, and he was right. The phone was attached to the laptop with its white umbilical cord, and as I started to move it off the bed, I bobbled the phone and it came unplugged. I had been warned. Everything stopped.
I remained calm as I tried to think WWED? But I think slower than he does, so I left the phone in a coma while I tapped into the power that he said was in us all. I was worried that I would lose photos from our trip to Portland, and that would be kind of like when Alderaan blew up and Obi Wan shuddered. I didn’t want to disturb Eric M in that way if I could help it.
After three days I had a plan. I paid attention. I was prepared to move ahead in my life without the vacation photos. I executed the plan.
As the virtual rock rolled away from the virtual cave the iPhone came alive and was restored to its perfect self, and there was my tulip start-up screen, and all 610 photos with none missing, and every dorky text message I’ve ever sent, and the new App Store button right there next to G40.
And it was good.
Thank you, Eric M.
PS And my hair looked cute today too.