My own iStory

I went out to the mall yesterday, a lovely outdoor paradise of consumption in Oak Brook IL, to make a couple of weekend purchases. I, like any good American, love to take some time in my off hours to go spend some of my hard-earned wages on things, and the practice of purchasing something that at one time was not mine, and now is, fills me with immense pride.

But every so often, about once a fiscal quarter I guess, an event will pop up that undermines my good feelings and makes me feel inadequate and small in my consumerism. Most of these events come at the hands of the Apple Corporation, and yesterday I was victimized by their exclusionary marketing techniques once again.

If you pay attention to any kind of media, you probably know that the mighty Apple handed down another lifesaving artifact from on high to the chosen few in the form of a new iPhone, and that it became available for purchase yesterday at 8:00 am. Millions of people all over the world stood in line for hours or days to claim their very own iPhone before anyone else could. What does it do that my current 2 year old phone doesn't do? Nothing that I need it to.

But the functionality is secondary to the experience. Apple's method of purposely releasing a number far below the anticipated demand creates a far superior purchasing process. It's a Super Purchase is what it is. A purchase that attracts news coverage, and fuels debate, and makes people really really angry. It's a beautiful thing. It's one thing to go to a store, find what you need and buy it, but it is so much more rewarding to work extra hard to get it, no matter how unnecessary the work is, so that your purchase is one of legends.

I don't need an iPhone. I don't really want one. So sadly, I have no reason to own one. But the iPhone experience is not about owning one as much as it is about buying one. That's where the lucky 200 or so irritable, sweaty, tired people standing in roped-off lines in front of the Apple store in Oak Brook Mall had much reason to feel superior to me. I was only there to buy some earbuds for my iPod, and there were no newspaper stories or press releases or lines of unwashed, shiny-moist creeps waiting for those.

I would have no story to tell tomorrow, when I told co-workers and friends about my weekend. I could not say that I stood in line for an entire day, and at times chanted angrily at the store employees when I suspected that this hype-induced scam was being run poorly, until I finally was allowed to spend a few hundred bucks on the only model that was left by the time I got into the store. And who cares if it's only 8gb instead of the 16gb that I intended to buy, and who cares if it's pink, and who cares that due to high volume on the Apple site I would not actually be able to use it as a communication device until I could figure out a way to get it working the way other people's inferior phones do! I would have had a story. A Super Purchase story that makes people go, "Wow. Really?"

That's right, I would say. Wow. And yes, really.

But that pleasure would not be mine. I stood and watched for a minute, wondering if I could even make my pathetic earbud purchase today, or if all non-iPhone items in the store had just been thrown into a back room to make room for dazzling displays of floor model iPhone units. (the ones that will be available for purchase at a ridiculously reduced price in about 3 weeks) Then I noticed that there was indeed a process in place to allow non-iPhoners to still spend money in the Apple store. A smallish 30-something guy, clearly way unhip to the happenings around him, attempted to walk into the store, and was stopped by two Apple genius-bouncers at the door.

"Are you here for the iPhone?" They interrogated him.

Looking around, this clueless individual suddenly became aware of the stockade of shoppers being held behind ropes in a line that began 15 feet from the store entrance.

"Uh, no. Desktop accessories." He replied nervously, as if trying to guess a secret password.

"Desktop accessories!" The iGoon shouted, and he was allowed to pass into the store.

There was a rumbling in the iPhone crowd, and the tone was clear and justifiable. "Desktop accessories", I imagined them saying to each other. "What a f*cking loser."

What a loser indeed. And my appreciation for the whining mass of consumer heroes was growing as they rightfully thumbed their collective nose at anyone who would buy something that didn't require the kind of manipulation and customer disrespect they so valiantly volunteered to endure. And their reward would be great. Once their long day was over, they could wake up the following morning and read about all of the iPhones that were sold, how poorly the stores handled the rushes, and how scores of technilogical glitches turned millions of loyal Apple hype-junkies into disgruntled saps who, once again, fell for the classic slow-release marketing gimmick employed at the expense of their dignity and cash, and say, "That was me!"

I would have no such tale. I had to accept my insigificance in this historic event and approach the door-geeks with my own loser password.

"iPod accessories." I mumbled, staring at the ground in utter shame.

"iPod accessories!"

I ran through the door to avoid the mocking sounds of the crowd and headed straight for the iPod wall. I immediately found the exact earbuds I planned to buy. Of course I did. And there was an embarrassingly ample inventory available to me. There was no limited supply, no rush to buy replacement accessories for a device that hasn't forced people to perspire in slow lines for over 5 years, and no conceivable story to follow my purchase.

I did have to wait almost 10 minutes at the check out line, where I imagined I was actually there to buy an iPhone, and even faked slight irritation to my cue-neighbor, just for fun, but she didn't play along.

I finished my sad transaction, and just to make things worse, did so right next to a delighted couple who were giggling as their new iPhone was carefully placed in a small Apple store bag. I looked at them for a moment and imagined what it must be like to be them, at this moment in retail history, and how they would commemorate their involvement right in the heart of it.

"Do you want those earbuds in a bag?" The cashier asked me.

I declined, as I have recently become a no-bag guy as a way to do my environmentally-conscious part. But then suddenly I heard something from a man outside, who was next in line to enter propoganda immortality, as he watched another non-iPhone buyer pass the threshold.

"You better make sure those people aren't buying iPhones!" He cautioned the iGoons. They reassured him and immediately I had a revelation.

I may not have a poorly functioning overpriced piece of electronics to take to work on Monday, but I would have my story, and my place in this historical occasion.

"On second thought, I will take a bag. One of those big ones."

I walked proudly out of the store and directly towards the suspicious man at the front of the line.

"You better hope you get in there soon," I told him, looking down into my nearly empty bag. "I am pretty sure I just bought the last two."

I hastily turned and headed towards the north lot, where I was parked. The further I got from the scene, the louder the chaos seemed to grow. I imagined the headlines tomorrow, about the Oakbrook riot and the eyewitness accounts of how a man claiming only to be purchasing earbuds made off with not one, but two iPhones, while some people waited for hours and were turned away, and as I exited the mall and tossed my Apple bag into a trash can, I became filled with tremendous consumer pride.