Monday, October 02, 2006
So how is it possible that I could be addicted to my yet-to-be purchased Blackberry?
Now more than ever, I'll be out covering meetings or events and see other reporters banging away at their Blackberries and Palm Treos. I'll shoot the sharp stare of covetousness and declare, "You shall be mine one day" and retreat back to my notebook and pen.
The clearest indicator that I had a problem came when I entered the Sprint store on Boylston street in Boston for the third day in a row. I walked in and made a beeline for the Crackberry.
"You're back," a salesman said.
I didn't even look up. "Yeah, I love this thing," I said. I'm too busy clicking the roller, seeing how easily I can type my name, trying to figure out how to work the address list. I'm swooning. Part of me wants to start nervously scrathing my neck all over.
I'm sick of trugging my laptop along just to freeload off some cafe's free wireless to check e-mail. It's either that, or get flooded with 80 e-mail messages when I finally get back home in time for Monday Night Football. Ever tried tackling 80 e-mail messages? Not fun.
Reporters are filing stories on them. They are getting quotes e-mailed, shooting e-mails to their boss -- and this is while they work out, walk the dog, etc. I can't even remember the last time I shot hoops with my little cousin and little brother. If I had the Blackberry I feel like things would get a little better.
Am I right? continue...