Sunday, September 15, 2013

iHell

Living in Israel, I rarely drink.  It’s not really part of the culture, so other than a glass of wine on Friday evenings, I don’t usually indulge.  Except for once in a while when I’m stressed or achy-tired and I feel the need for something a bit stronger than vino. Then I typically pick scotch, which I learned how to drink from my dad, may he rest in peace.

The House of Wine next door went out of business recently and reopened its doors last week to sell off its stock, so I went to see what could be had.  Mind you, it’s lucky I don’t drink much because the prices of distilled liquor in Israel are mind-blowing.  Would you pay $100 for a perfectly ordinary bottle of scotch?  Anyway, there on the shelf was a relatively affordable bottle of Wild Turkey Kentucky bourbon.  I’d never tried bourbon and I thought this might be my chance.  So I bought it and put it on the shelf next to that bottle of gin I’ve had since the ‘90’s – gin doesn’t spoil, does it?

As it happens, last week we also switched our telephones en masse, the way everything is done in the kibbutz.  I junked my Samsung phone that never worked properly for an older version of iPhone that wouldn’t detonate the budget and I naively thought I would be better off.  If only I had known the pain and suffering I was l inviting onto my head!  It took me 2 hours – 2 hours! – to find where to correct the time which was set to Cupertino, California.  Nothing about this phone is intuitive.  And Apple, being Apple, does not deign to explain the mysteries of its software.  It took me another 2 days to find how to change the display language to blessed English and download a ringtone.

Now here’s the really irritating thing about Apple:  even their online support is useless.  It’s just about impossible to find an answer to the question you’re actually asking.  The search feature barely relates to the terms you entered and online chat does not exist in their rarefied world, all of which makes me long for the genuinely helpful universe of Microsoft.  I love you, Bill Gates!


In the depths of my distress amid concerns for what this was doing to my blood pressure, I thought, I really need a drink.  Then I thought of the bourbon.  This was as good a time as any to give it a try.  Of course it was instantly relaxing and soothing and I have to tell you – it’s really good with a lovely flavor of malted grain.  Who knew?  I think I like it even better than scotch.  But, please, don’t tell my dad.

3 comments:

Unknown said...

I still don't have a smartphone. I desire and fear them at the same time.

I was taking a walk last week when I spotted a Samsung smartphone just sitting in the grass near the curb. No one was around, so I picked it up, planning to bring it home with me once I'd finished my walk to try to find the owner.

I thought to myself "It's probably going to take me 20 minutes to even find the list of phone numbers in this thing to call one of their friends. I'm exhausted already."

Unfortunately for the owner, it was utterly dead. Well, I assume it was out of juice, I'm fairly confident I'd be able to at least turn one of those things on without a map if it had enough power left.

Long story short, I turned it into the police department, because now I was responsible for the damned thing and I couldn't just pretend I hadn't picked up a device that probably cost a couple hundred dollars.

They looked at me like I had two heads. One of the officers even laughed at me! Is it actually that rare for a person to turn in a found item?

I wish my dad were still around, because I'd say you should definitely tell him about my smartphone adventure. He'd also probably eye up your gin and offer to see if it actually goes bad for you. He always had an iron stomach.

Kibbutz Window said...

Do you mean to tell me that those policeman didn't give you a citizenship award on the spot? When did the world become so jaded?

I think I'm starting to resent a phone that's smarter than I. It's a little off-putting.

By the way, I think I would have liked your dad.

Unknown said...

You would think they'd at least give me the key to the city, or a box of kittens trained to meow my name.