Decision by rationalization

Why in heaven's name would I need an iPhone?

As I'd often remarked to whomever would listen, watching eyes glaze over: --"I have a perfectly good clamshell cell phone.  At home, I have a good PC, with wide screen and printer.  I'm in the house most of the time, within steps of my PC.  I often forget to take my cell phone with me when I do step out, because I make so few calls and receive so few calls.  If I do receive any calls that aren't solicitations, they'll leave a voice mail and I'll call them back within a few hours of their call.  And if I can't be bothered to carry a small cell phone in my pocket, what am I going to do with a humongous iPhone?"

And I had watched relatives who had once scorned the idea of a smart phone become addicted as soon as they got their hands on one.  All conversations then became subject to immediate interruption the moment a new email or text message arrived.  That image itself was enough -- almost -- to settle the matter in my own mind.

How would an iPhone improve my life?  Especially when it would cost so much more? 

Then, on my trip to New York in November, I managed to lose my cell phone.  One piece of my carefully constructed argument was missing.  What now?  Should I replace my antique cell phone?  "Why not replace it with a crank phone and just ring up Central to place your calls?" an evil voice in my ear whispered?  Or should I, to use AT&T's honeyed phrase, "upgrade"?

I'm being rational, I told everyone.  I'm sticking with my good old Nokia.  I laughingly explained my situation to my vast audience of Facebook friends.  Am I not right, I asked rhetorically.  "No," they shouted back, non-rhetorically.  "Get the iPhone!"

I went back to the AT&T webpage (no way would I subject myself to a salesperson at a store).  I compared prices.  I'd be doubling my monthly phone charges.  But I'd get a huge discount on the purchase price of the phone itself if I committed myself to a two-year contract.  (As if I'd ever take the initiative to change phone plans within two years in any event!)

I caved in.  With one click on-line, I signed up.  Within three days, my iPhone arrived in the mail.

I activated it.  It's sleek, black, and devilishly handsome.  The images are amazingly sharp and the color is excellent.  While the quality of photos I take with it doesn't match those I take with my SLR camera, it works well enough for on-the-spot snapshots when I'm not carrying a camera. 

I haven't added any apps.  I can do nothing to date that I couldn't do before.  Was it worth the cost?  Maybe.  Spontaneous photos are cool, and I can upload them immediately to Facebook or email them.  Constant access to Facebook and emails is sort of a silly benefit, for a guy in my situation, but it's fun.  I can reply to texts quite easily; it was a painstaking process with my old phone.  These are all fairly marginal benefits, at a somewhat significant price.

But it does actually slip into my pocket just as easily as did my old cell phone.

Maybe the real justification is one that's embarrassing to admit.  I've evaded, for the moment, the quiet, unnerving suspicion that I wasn't "keeping up."  That new technology and its lingo were racing past me.  That I was becoming the old codger who crank-started his Model T after everyone else had automatic transmissions and power steering, shouting, "Why pay all that money for a new car when old Betsy works just fine?"

And now another little voice, the one named "Buyer's Remorse," whispers in my ear, now that it's too late, "Maybe that old codger was on to something!"