Sunday, December 28, 2014

iDivorce You If Only I Could

I've been on the damned computer all day trying to work out kinks in my transition from my iPhone to my Galaxy s5. I didn't really have anything against Apple when I changed. I loved my iPhone, but I needed a better camera. I did. And frankly, Mike wanted one of us to try an android, so I was his guinea pig. I would rather it have been him trying out something new. I was good at using my iPhone. He's just better with new technology. I, on the other hand, have gotten adept at asking the Internet questions about how to do those techno things I just don't want to have to learn on my own.

But after doing everything that everyone said I should do, I still cannot text Mike. He can't text me either.

I keep hoping that iMessages will finally let me go. I turned it off on my iPhone. I turned it off on my computer, which informed me that it had already been turned off. And throughout it all, I sent Mike a bunch of messages:  Anything? Anything?

And then I realized that I had a whole new set of emoticons. I could send the little smiley face, the little smiley face embarrassed, the face confused, then crying, zoned out, exhausted, and then finally dead with little x's over her eyes. I sent a whole series of these guys.  Nothing. I could walk over to the couch and check Mike's phone. There were, under my label, a whole bunch of messages: test, test, test. Creative much?

The Internet finally told me that it might take Apple a week to catch up with it's own information that I have been unregistered from iMessages.

A week?

A week without emailing any of my friends who happen to have iPhones instead of something else? Except for Mike, I haven't paid attention to what kind of phones people have. I don't really care. I figure it doesn't much matter because we have all this technology to hold us together. And yet I'm decoupled from Mike. I'll never again see those little dots telling me that he was composing his reply. But I don't want to be decoupled. I depend on those texts to Mike. I depend on that technology, on those companies that provide it.

And yet the technology fails us, not because they can't manage the 'complicated' task, but because they're like divorced parents. They don't have any interest in cooperating with each other and with me when I'm trying to coordinate something with the other. I'm in the middle, the one who needs to have conversations with each of them. I get nothing but he-said-she-said. It's his fault. It's her fault. There are no clear answers. There is no concern for the feelings of the one in the middle who still needs the two controllers to work together to get something done.

Damn it, if I could divorce you both, Apple and Samsung, I would at this very instant. But I'm sure it would take at least a week for either of you to acknowledge it.

Thank you for listening, jules

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