Snippets from many Love Letters to a Deceitful Blackberry
Dear
How I love thee? How I am consumed by thy greatness? Let me count the ways.
The minute I held you in my palm, and set my location and local time, I knew that our relationship would be a different one. I knew that I would hold you, grinding your trackwheel with reckless abandon, as you rambled on about all that work-related b.s. that I still don’t get. Regardless, I’m a good listener, ‘berry, and I’m just so thankful to have you, that I don’t care what information you bring to me. From that day, I knew that I would be compelled to pull you out of the recesses of my pockets, at random times of day. While eating, while driving, while peeing. At bars, parties, lunches, dinners. Even when you may not have chimed or vibrated, to indicate that ‘I’ve got mail’, I still can’t help but check. Maybe you missed something out. Nobody's perfect. Can I help that I just want to look at you? Can I help it that I’m concerned that your miniscule battery life may have gone out again? Can I help that I just want to show the world that I’m a busy, busy tycoon who is ... connected? That people in various timezones require my electronic opinion on some ridiculously crucial issue at this instant point in time, and if I don’t respond, there will be much famine, drought and needless homicide? Even the people that I email will raise their eyebrows with appreciation because of my autosignature that tells them that you are my device of choice (Although, I’m sorry that I get rid of that very signature when I CC e-mails to my boss during the day, so that he thinks that I’m at work). Its not because I’m ashamed of you, dearest. I’m a proud man, because I have you, O fair, fair Blackberry. The ultimate status symbol of importance in today’s world. The beacon of success. The icon of a man’s true arrival into the world of corporate crappitude.
You’re my ‘wingman’, Blackberry. When I’m at a bar, and that hot chick totally blows me off in front of everybody, who do I turn to? I turn to you, with deep attention. You, in turn, engage your backlight and shine on me. I have resurrected my manhood. You have restored my integrity. Each noisy grind of your trackwheel fuels my pride. And I’m ready to be rejected again. As long as I have you. Don’t get me wrong, you’re not my backup. You’re my best friend. So what if your mailbox limit gets reached every hour, I still love you.
Did you know that you were a negotiating point for me, when I took this job? I was ok with no stock options, medical insurance or retirement plan. I was ok with the deep, incisive pay cut and lowly designation. I was perfectly ok with the dusty cubicle in between the restrooms and the janitor’s closet, that nobody wanted. As long as they gave me you, in my hand (Although that medical plan would've helped out with my Carpal Tunnel).
I will always believe that there are two kinds of people in this world. People with Blackberries. And people without Blackberries. When I got you, babe, I graduated to the former. I was honored. I felt powerful. I felt superior to the Neanderthals who weren’t able to play Brickbreaker at their cousin’s third wedding, with knotted eyebrows, pretending to type mails with ground-shattering consequences to their CFO’s team in
I accept you as you are. The day I got you, I proceeded to load high bandwidth sites on your browser, because I was thrilled that I could browse the internet from the palm of my hand. The information superhighway was at my fingertips. Then, you crashed. I have since learnt to stick to lo-fi Google Maps, when it comes to you. I usually use it to find an internet café where I can browse high bandwidth sites. Ayo technology!
Its 3 AM. And I hear your gentle vibrations. Brrrrrrrr. . Brrrrrrr. I love the way you pause between them. You’re such a tease. Its probably SPAM, but who cares. Its 3 AM and I’m being communicated with. Do you know what that feels like? My landline hasn’t rung in 6 years. Your vibrations make me feel like a social magnet! You keep me going,
I have to tell you this much, honey. The day I leave work, or am made to do so, I will sneak you out with me.
Don’t blink that red light at me, sweetie - I know, I know, I know what you’re thinking. Its against the policy, I’m supposed to return you to Technology Services, I’m aware of that. But no policy in this world can draw us apart. I will sneak you out those steel doors, past the security guards, and then run! Run like a free man! Just you and me. To a world where you will always hit the tallest bar. To a world where you will never switch away from GPRS mode. Back to that outdated GSM realm, or worse! No Network! Argh, ghastly! Never! Don’t keep me from being plugged in to the rest of the world, which I incidentally have no time for, because of you, but I digress! Ahem, to a world where your backlight will never timeout, and you will never cease to shine on me. Shine on me.
‘
Fine. Be that way! I’ll just have you know this much, you ungrateful fiend! Qs, Treos and even, Iphones came about. They were sleeker, they were younger. Oh, they were so much sexier (you’ve gotta admit, you’ve put on a few grams). Fine, they were high maintenance, but I could’ve been tempted. I could’ve swayed the wrong way. But I didn’t. I was loyal. And this is what I get? I got you all the accessories that you could imagine, or that RIM could conceive! Even that ridiculous Bluetooth earpiece that made me look like a flickering blue pansy!
After all I did for you, today you lie in silence, warranty-less with zero resale value. And my world comes crashing down. Every once in a while, I still turn you on. Hoping beyond hope that that a little orange envelope will show up with a number next to it, in your top left corner. But alas, it isn’t so.
But I thank the Gods for our time together. Oh How I thank the team at Research in Motion that created a digital diva like you.
And how I thank my stars that I don’t own RIMM stock.
Miss you, baby.
PS: I will always be loyal.
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Sent from my Iphone
2 comments:
OMG!!!!!!!! FREAKING HILARIOUS AND TRUE!
You are strange yet... it's almost Don Quixotic..
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