“Are You a Journalist?”
A story that can now be told.
I was in a movie theater a few weeks ago. In the dim light, while Heather was off getting treats, I looked around and noticed that everyone in the theater was poking at some kind of glowing device. But one person was doing a unique flick-flick-flick with his index finger.
I scooted over to him and said, “Excuse me, is that what I think it is?”
He held it to his chest. “Are you a journalist?”
“No,” I said.
“A blogger?”
“Oh c’mon,” I said. “Who’s not a blogger at this point?”
He relented and handed it over. It was a real, live iPhone.
I poked at it timidly. It was almost intimidating. I was sure I was going to drop it or find his nudie bookmarks or something. I took a photo in the theater (totally black - the iPhone camera, like most cellcams, sucks in low light), poked at a few notes, and handed it back.
I said thanks and realized I’d never introduced myself. “I’m Derek,” I said.
He told me his name and said he was a programmer on the iPhone team. I won’t post his name here. Partly because I wouldn’t want to get him in trouble, but mostly because his eyes darted up and to the right when he told it to me, so I’m pretty sure it was a fake.
Whoever you are, mister iPhone programmer, thanks for the preview.
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