I frequently have techno-envy. It isn't flattering and it doesn't make me feel good about myself. You have a toy, a new gadget, and it does something cool, even if I don't "need" that cool something it does . . . techno-envy. We have the same gadget but yours is upgraded? Serious techno-envy. It's problematic, because new things come out every day . . . and sometimes it's almost painful. The odd thing about it is new technology frustrates me. Just ask my spouse. He has often gifted me with something he just knew I felt that techno-envy about . . .and by the end of the day I've been close to tears and ready to toss it out the window. Not exaggerating (for emphasis.) And whatever you do, don't try to help me with it. DO NOT.
Sometimes being married to me is funny.
I guess marketing is all about torturing us on purpose. That pine furniture you hated? Give it away and buy that new black furniture that's in all the design magazines. Wait a few months . . . suddenly, pine is everywhere. In between the black furniture craze and the pine comeback, well, white furniture was all the rage. Need a new washer and dryer? Go out and buy the latest and greatest, go right ahead. The following week they make one that sings to you when your laundry is done. Purge your house of all color because every design blog in the world is all about beige - consider it insurance that Pottery Barn is about to change their entire focus and become all about yellow, green, red, florals! Whatever.
Back to technology...
Sadly (because I'm not cool), the reasons I crave technology have much more to do with being organized (a control freak) and less to do with having the newest coolest application. When I recently discovered I could buy the Nevada Rules of Civil Procedure for an iPhone I seriously almost wet my pants. People. This is how I make my living. The idea that I could carry that information around with me and have it at my fingertips almost made my head explode. But alas, I don't have an iPhone.
Remember the Palm Pilot? Loved mine. Now THAT was everything I ever wanted. I could put in all eight kids' birthdays, their spouses' birthdays, grandchildren birthdays . . . and actually set them to recur. To infinity. This meant if I met an unfortunate (at least to me) death my spouse could pick up my phone and know when everyone was born. Yes, I think this way, and (huge surprise) my spouse does not. Also, he does not know when everyone was born. See? I have a purpose.
After the Palm Pilot came the Treo. Oh how I loved that phone. AND, hello Palm software on my cell phone. Now you are my planner and my phone. SCORE. Birthdays SAFE (in case of death.) Bishop's birthdays, Seminary students' birthdays, Time Out for Women dates. Grocery lists. And reminders. Can't even go there. Reminders! Thirteen months later (during a trip to Hawaii) that phone bit the dust. Off to the AT&T store we went to get the latest and greatest Palm had to offer. Because I'm brand loyal. That's how I roll (Bridget taught me that.) And here's the kicker. Get home, hotsync with my Outlook, everything is back. Every phone number, mailing address, email address, blog address and, yes, every birthday - right back at my fingertips. Infinity at my fingertips. And anyone else's fingertips (if I happen to turn up dead.)
Now what? My spouse is joining the rest of the world and buying that new iPhone. I can't take it. Suddenly it doesn't matter that my phone of choice does what I need it to do. Yes, it lets me write myself notes in the middle of the night, check. And then that note pops up on my office computer the next day, check. Suddenly, I have an overwhelming urge to be cool. iPhone cool.
Guess what? That iPhone doesn't do what I need it to do. Please advise.
P.S. I really want an iPad.