The iPhone 3G was the winner of my internal struggle between it and the Blackberry Curve. If only obtaining one was as easy. The previous day’s worldwide launch was filled with a network crash and angry customers. Now it is my turn to pursue the vetted device. My hope is the Day After will yield less hassle. Below is my account:
8:35 am – Awaken from the floor where I spent 6 hours the day before finalizing my debate: iPhone 3G or Blackberry Curve. I remember from checking the web last night that the nearest AT&T store opens at 9 a.m. Sadly, that does not leave enough time to hit Starbucks.
8:58 a.m. – Arrive at AT&T store number one (trust me, there will be more). There is something wrong. No customers. I am not naive enough to think it will be this easy. I am informed that they do not sell iPhones at this location. He recommends I check an Apple store, as they get more frequent shipments. He tells me roughly where the three are that are actually selling it. (Thanks again, AT&T and Apple, for making this such an easy process). I send a text to Google, and get the exact location and numbers of said AT&T stores and the Apple store. The Apple store doesn’t open until 10, according to its phone message, and the closest AT&T store is only about four miles away, but it opens in two minutes. Every minute is crucial.
9:04 a.m. – Blow past the next store due to the shopping center’s excellent parking lot design. After making a U-turn about a mile down the road (thanks traffic engineers) I find a crowd of about 30 people outside. There is one AT&T employee with a clipboard. He’s calling names off a waiting list. Standing for an hour in the blasting sun was not exactly how I had planned to spend this morning. After spying at the list and talking to a few of the people in line, I decide my chances of getting an iPhone here are extremely slim. Because the Apple store doesn’t open for another 45 minutes, I decide to hit another AT&T store.
9:25 a.m. – I split time on the drive there between glancing at street signs and the address from the text message on my tiny Samsung phone screen. Geez, if I had an iPhone, I could find the store and buy one.
9:30 a.m. – Strike Two. No iPhones at this location at all. There is only the Apple store and one more AT&T store left.
9:35 a.m. – I decide in order to avoid a migraine and overall lethargy it’s time for Starbucks. I realize I have already passed six in less than 10 miles. No wonder they’re closing 600 stores. Given the time, I decide to head to the Apple store next.
9:45 a.m. – I arrive at the mall and find a parking stall. Seeing that I’m 15 minutes early I think I’m in good shape. Then I notice a few people enter through one of the mall doors. I hustle out of the car and scurry around some slow-moving patrons to get down to where the Apple Store is located. There is already a line outside and the store is open. Clearly I failed to account for the possibility the store would be opening early today. Thanks again, Apple, for keeping your information phone line updated.
9:50 a.m. – Fortunately I don’t have to wait long in line. Unfortunately it’s because an orange-shirt clad Apple employee in flip flops is announcing they are sold out for the day. At this point I’m pretty discouraged. It’s already nearly 10:00 and there is only one store left to visit. The odds that any iPhones are available anywhere is dismal. Nonetheless, I opt to head off for the last AT&T store.
10:05 – Arrive at my final destination. I’m closing in on being at this for two hours. I haven’t showered or shaved, so I feel like a Yeti. But I trudge into the last store. A woman with a Bluetooth device in her ear trots around the room in pumps trying to keep order. She then announces the formation of a line and takes my name down on her orange post-it pad. She clumsily maneuvers through a few people and stakes out a spot to form a line, motioning with both arms as if she’s trying to land a 747. She gives one final roll call then heads off to put out the next fire.
This allows for some fun, yet somehow also irritating, people watching. The man in front of me gets pulled out of line by his impatient girlfriend after 10 minutes because she doesn’t want to wait. The woman behind me ends up in front of me, apparently forgetting the lessons she was taught every single day in elementary school not to cut in front of others. Then another lady behind me who has been yelling into her Bluetooth hoping it would work realizes that by pressing the “on” button, it can actually work. During a pause in her phone conversation with whoever was on the other line, she asks me to tell the AT&T staff if they call her name that she “evaporated.” If only.
Finally, it’s my turn. I tell the AT&T employee I would like to purchase an iPhone. He heads into the back, then appears with a shiny, sealed box. I am triumphant. The hard work has paid off.
“We have one left. It’s an eight gig.”
Depression sets in. I know I want a 16GB, and I will regret it later if I cave in now. The temptation is strong. I am two feet away from an iPhone. I can almost touch it. If I choose to accept, it will be mine in 15 minutes.
But I am strong in faith. I resist. I instead place an order for one, which is supposed to arrive in about five days. BUT I was told if I can secure one from another store before then, I get a rebate. So perhaps even though there is one with my name on it out there, The Pursuit of an iPhone may continue.