Dear Blackberry phone,
I spend enough time with you that I should say this to your screen. However, I feel my critique will explode your deteriorating ability to perform well. Frankly I think it’ll push you over the edge. Sometimes it’s hard to deal with the truth and I don’t think you’d be able to cope.
You haven’t been coping for a while actually. As soon as it’s too cold, too windy, too hot, or too wet you sporadically tell me what I should be clicking on, selecting and scrolling through. This is especially annoying when I’m in the middle of a message and you decide it’s best to scroll to the middle of a message from months ago that I no longer care about. At first I gave you the benefit of the doubt, and thought you were just trying to be helpful or make my life a little more exciting. Now I realise you’re just an incompetent jerk.
I was always so nice to you. I thought you were awesome as soon as I brought you home. I didn’t even care that my fingers seemed to be gigantic in comparison to your buttons designed purely for elves and gremlins. I knew I’d be able to adapt to you. You, however, have done nothing to adapt to me. You forget things I’ve told you and decide that you can’t take pictures because there’s no more memory in your little head. Even though I have given you a little more, read lot more – I’m just being nice, brain space which you should be thankful for.
I love how you annoyingly assume everyone’s number that I put in is their work number. Yes, you’re a phone designed for business people but you’re also a mobile. Don’t try to be something you’re not. Don’t pretend that I’m more likely to punch in a work number than a mobile number.
I charge you so often too, I spend so much energy on you that you almost defeat the purpose of being a wireless device. I don’t even use you often enough for it to be justified. The charger is frazzled, it’s not meant to be used that often. Why are you so damn needy?
You came with a lovely little booklet that obviously had some thought put into it. You let your little booklet lie to me though. You weren’t able to help with my every need. You don’t even have the ability to have two alarms unless I do it through your calendar. It would be so much easier if you could just allow me to use two alarms. I think you enjoy making my life a little more difficult sometimes. Even if it’s just by wasting another two minutes of my time. Little things add up: I know your game.
Oh and one more thing: why do you like to incur extra charges on an already more than fair contract. Why do you do that? I treat you well, you should hear the horror stories of what people I know have done to their phones. Dropped down toilets, dropped on floors, smashed, thrown at walls, lost back covers, cracked screens and broken buttons. I haven’t done any of those things, once or twice maybe – no more than that though. It’s not enough to make you open up my browser or call random numbers when you’re feeling crazy. It’s not fair, don’t resort to punishing me with stupid small but significant charges just because you’re bored.
We’ve been together for almost a year and a half and sadly you’re already giving up on life. I didn’t want to change you. I thought you would be different to all the other phones, that you could prove to me that you’re not dispensable things, designed to last the length of a contract and not much longer.
I hope you understand how for something that prides themselves on being leaders and up-to-date and all those buzz words your makers use, you are a little disappointing to say the least. All you need to do, all I’m asking is that you start acting like a phone. You don’t know this, but I once owned one of your great ancestors; the Nokia 9410. A brick but a reliable, solid phone that doubled as a weapon. Why can’t you be more like that?
Lots of love, your ever hopeful friend,