As a self-confessed Apple obsessive — I currently have five iPods (of various generations), three Macs and an Apple TV — it became a point of pride that I did not own an iPhone. It was proof, if proof were needed, that despite an unhealthy attraction to all things Apple, I could still exercise free will, that I was not a complete slave to the techno-lust inspired by the sleek lines of the latest lifestyle offering from Steve Jobs et al.
Of course, this was only partly true. One of the reasons that I had not switched to an iPhone even a year after its launch in the UK was a reticence to switch from Orange to O2, thus terminating a relationship I'd had for over ten years.
But recently, when Orange decided that me slipping out of an 18-month contract and thus free to court other networks was the ideal time to start screwing me (when you'd think it would be the exactly the time they'd want to start being really nice to me), it was just enough to tip the balance and make me decide to give into iPhone longing and give O2 a shot at my custom.
Although the queue in the O2 shop was quite long and not doing down very quickly, when I did finally get served I experienced that rare and fragile thing — decent customer service in a UK retail environment.
The sales assistant recognised me from when I popped in briefly a few days before and made a point of saying so. He was helpful, knowledgeable, polite and even good-humoured throughout the entire transaction, and when everything was done he wished me a good weekend in a way that made me think he actually meant it. I genuinely don't care whether or not he actually did mean it, but I felt like he did.
It's almost worth signing up for a second iPhone just for the customer service.
When I got the thing home it took me a good five or ten minutes to work out how to put the SIM card into it. There were no instructions mentioning SIM card insertion in the box. But digging around in the packaging I found a curious little metal "sardine key" and a simple line drawing showing it being inserted into the top edge of the iPhone. No words. Just a simple one frame drawing.
And when you do what the drawing tells you to do with the shiny little key, a secret drawing slides out, and that's where you put the SIM. Now maybe the guy in the shop should have told me how to put the SIM in, but I'm glad he didn't.
Others might have found this infuriating, but for me this little bit of non-verbal puzzle-solving added to the whole experience. The package designers had provided me with the minimum sufficient instructions to get the job done and I just had to trust that they knew what they were doing.
Because they're basically saying, if you can't work out how to get the SIM card in, I'm sorry, but we don't want you to have an iPhone. You'll be dragging the standard down.
And I'm all for a bit of elitism now and again.
