I write a monthly column over atÂ AlliOSNews. Itâ€™s a techie site â€“ extolling all the goodies and gunpowder on the Apple OS. (SHINY TOY!) Iâ€™m TechMom. And these are my stories on how technology is really used. This is what you must deal with, as I am a Silicon Valley nerd by day.
Iâ€™m well aware itâ€™s Thursday. TechMom Tuesday is typically published the first Tuesday of every month, but this month you get two weeks in a rowÂ because OH MY GOD MY iPHONE ALMOST DIED. I reserve the right to rant more or less as the technical goings-on, wellâ€¦go on.Â
As Clinton (editor-in-chief of the aforementioned illustrious AlliOSNews) considers the technology at his disposal to build a vessel that can hold all creatures of the world two-by-two amid the gale force deluge dumping upon the British Isles, California finally got a sprinkling of moisture.
Of course, as the water situation becomes bleaker in one of the worst droughts seen by the golden state, any rain in the forecast brings about the emergency alerts: STORMWATCH 2014. (No joke, this was the leading nightly news story on the day we expected to receive 1/10th of an inch of rain â€“ a mere quarter centimeter for all you metric people.)
Finally, this past week, we had a desperately needed downpour. By which I mean actual rain for the morning commute, which causes all the drivers forget how to operate a motor vehicle.
By the time lunchtime rolled around, I decided I was hungry enough to brave the elements in search of a sandwich (it was drizzling now). After procuring the necessary foodstuffs for storm survival, I returned to the office and darted across the parking lot into the building so as to not get too much mist on my hair.
It wasnâ€™t until I got back to my desk that the feeling of utter nakedness descended upon me. My phone was not in my pocket.
I dropped my sandwich like a hot potato and riffled through my Mary Poppins-full bag. Tissues, hair ties, snacks, glasses, gum, candy, what I think may have once been a fast food toy, walletâ€¦all present and accounted for. BUT NO PHONE.
I tried to calm myself as I grabbed my keys and skittered back down the stairs two at a time. Perhaps Iâ€™d just left it in my car. But I was terrified it may be lost in the black hole that is an abandoned deli counter.
There, lying face down in the abyss of a rainwater puddleâ€™s depth, was my iPhone. Rotting fallen autumn leaves further polluted the pool of staid and stagnating water; I could see remnants of the ripples that must have emanated from impact when my precious phone fell from my pocket.
<There is no photo of this gruesome discovery. I would have taken one, but if Iâ€™d had my phone I wouldnâ€™t be experiencing such a situation of mind-numbing horror.>
Several months ago, after chipping yet another corner of my phone, Iâ€™d reluctantly made the decision to retire my Marauderâ€™s Map case for one with a bit more protective power. I choose the white/gray LifeProof fre because I liked the unobtrusiveness of the case.
This supposedly indestructible cover added very little bulk to the sleek Apple design of my iPhone 5.â€œTake your iPhone 5 everywhere and do everything everyday with our four Proofs: Water Proof, Dirt Proof, Snow Proof and Shock Proof,â€ boasts LifeProofâ€™s marketing machine.
Well, we were still in California, so the snow proof wasnâ€™t really a concern of mine â€“ but as I approached my device that had dropped from the height of the TechMom Mobile into a dirty tarn of water, I was all too keenly aware that I was about to discover whether or not truth in advertising was at play here.
<Drum roll pleaseâ€¦>
It was pretty soggy. And the white casing is definitely dingier. But I brought my iPatient back into the office and wiped it off with a paper towel. No rice bags, no days of drying, no cracked screen, no touch screen skips, no muffled or crackling audio.
Well whatdya know. LifeProof protected my phone fromâ€¦well, life.
Sold. Cases for the iPhone are available at LifeProof.com for $79.99 (but often discounted to $59.99 with code).
And because Iâ€™m giddy with glee (because oh my god I donâ€™t know how I can function without my phone) and my son has a particular interest in Ariel the Mermaid these days, I give you an adaptation of â€œPoor Unfortunate Souls.â€
My dear, sweet phone. That’s what I do. It’s what I live for.
To help unfortunate techfolk like yourself.
Poor phones with no battery left to charge.
I admit that in the past I’ve been a nasty
They weren’t kidding when they called me, well, a witch
But you’ll find that nowadays
I’ve mended all my ways
Repented, seen the light, powered the on-switch
And I fortunately know a little coding
It’s a talent that I always have possessed
And dear user, please don’t laugh
I use it on behalf
Of the outdated, un-upgraded, and discontinued (pathetic)
Poor unfortunate phones
Shut down, in need
This one longing to be thinner
That one wants a bigger screen
And do I help them?
Those poor unfortunate phones
So sad, so true
They come flocking to my cauldron
Crying, “Cases, LifeProof, please!”
And I help them!
Yes I do
Now it’s happened once or twice
Someone didnâ€™t take installation advice
And I’m afraid I had to let the home screen shatter
Yes I’ve had the odd complaint
But on the whole I’ve been a saint
To those poor unfortunate phones
Have we got a deal?