On Elfin Fingers

I never realized how thick-set and uncoordinated my fingers were until I got my iPhone.  Of course, the fact that the iPhone keypad is apparently designed for elfin fingers hasn’t helped.

I liked the BlackBerry keypad.  It was a permanent keypad, with little raised buttons that were completely thumb-friendly.  The iPhone, however, dumps the permanent keypad in favor of a temporary one that vanishes when not needed, in order to accommodate a larger screen and better visuals.  The price of good visuals, however, is a tiny set of touch buttons that are best suited to the light touch of dancing fairy feet. Does anyone who doesn’t live in the world of the Lord of the Rings actually possess the thumb dexterity needed to routinely accomplish shift-A or shift-S?

My stubby-fingered, stumbling attempts to type on the iPhone keypad are a source of deep personal embarrassment.  I’m very concerned that I’m going to wear a hole in the screen where the backspace/delete button appears.

Death Throes Of The BlackBerry

My aging BlackBerry is giving up the ghost, and dealing with its slow-motion expiration has been painful.

I’ve liked the BlackBerry.  I don’t use it for much other than phone calls, e-mail checks, random textings, and the occasional foray onto the internet.  I haven’t loaded it down with apps because I don’t care to make my phone the center of my very existence.

It has been easy to operate and reliable through years of regular daily use.  But the key word in the last sentence is “been,” because the BlackBerry has now become as temperamental and unpredictable as a spoiled feline.  The battery has run down to the point where only a few minutes of use will drain the charge, and then all bets are off.  Sometimes the BlackBerry screen will just go black, other times error messages will occur.  And nothing says “professionalism” like a randomly cut off business call and a later, fumbling explanation that your handheld device is on the fritz.

It particularly sucks when I am on the road.  In airports I relentlessly prowl the gate areas for plug-in points, eyes glued at ankle level, looking like a dog roaming the house and sniffing for food that may have fallen the ground.  In older airports, you’ll find me standing at the few, odd areas, always located far from any seating, where you find electrical outlets.  As soon as I unplug and head to a chair, the power bars start to flicker and the power draining begins.

It’s time for a new BlackBerry.