Does it ever occur to you that you are hmm, insensitive?
I mean, you gave me detailed information about whether the message is delivered, whether the person who got my message click and read it. Creepiest of all creeps, if me and the textee happen to be online at the same time with the expertise of your Master Sir iPhone, OBE, I can see the Ellipsis “…” when the person on the other end is typing.
Too much information. Way too much.
The only status I need —
Delivery failed. Try again. Por Favor.
Don’t you think it’s violating me and the textee’s privacies? Sure, I am thankful that you take my well-being into consideration regarding how many people with zilch texting etiquette never respond my texts even though the status says — “Read.”, “PS. More Than A Week Ago.”
But you know what, in the texting world, I’d rather have a grain of salt than you spying and reporting on the me and textee’s whereabouts and our kinks on texting.
You disgust me.
I miss the good old days when I can just sit back and relax. If there is a letter at the doorstep, cheerios. If not, I carry on with my life without worrying about my Signal, WIFI or China’s Internet Firewall to intercept my carefully crafted message.
I know you are doing fine. Your Insta, Twitter and Facebook have billions of followers. But if you ever want a change, an overhaul. You might want to check WeChat.
Yes, ye hear me — WeChat, your Chinese pal. She is the most thoughtful person I’ve known, at least on the outside. (*Leave me alone on the Watergate stuff.)
Yes, she went to the dark side once — like you. But you know what she did? She listens. Now you won’t see those Gossip-Girl statuses on the textees. Ever.
Truth is, most of the time, I have a complicated relationship with me phone already. I don’t what to see me phone when I write. When I spot him somewhere, I feel like he’s trying to lure me, that bastard. Then after a tug of war, I give in. I turn off the Flight Mode (Yes, I tell my friends that most of the time I am up in the air like George Clooney), his sidekick, yes, you iMessage (this letter’s addressee), shove all those messages in my face. My clumsy thumbsy clicks on those texts make them all “Read.” Shit. Now, I would be a jerk if I don’t reply.
[A hour later…]
Finally replied all those iMessages. I now can restore my clear conscience. No, of course it didn’t take that long. I am not that popular as Mister Trump. I just decided to hang around with me phone for a while. What? An hour has passed? Shit.
Dear iMessage, you see? That’s an hour of my life that you and I can’t get back — just because you thoughtless ego-maniac master Sir iPhone, OBE puts that status as your feature highlight.
Yes, I know I can switch it off in the Settings — not to imply that I am a geek of some sort. But why don’t you just tell your Sir OBE to make “No Status” as Default?
Shame on you. And I rest my case.
The Simplicity quote above is from Leonardo da Vinci. But Steve loved it and made it his mission making Apple products. Don’t ever forget that, Buster.