Roughly two years ago, and every family gathering since, I’ve been poking fun at my relatives who have been purchasing Galaxy Notes and HTCs and LGs and Nexuses (Nexi?). Not for the operating systems, mind you. Though I’m not a super fan of Android, I’m definitely getting bored with the rows of iCubes my iPhones have had since 2008. Not the designs, either — I’ve fawned at the HTC One and drooled at the elegant Nokia Lumia. And definitely not at the technical specifications, what with more powerful processors and megapixels and inductive charging that Cupertino doesn’t have yet.
No, I’ve been jabbing at my friends’ phones because of one thing: the screen size.
“You have a TV strapped to your head,” I’d tell my friends. “How often do you need to work out before you can make a call” and “are those Angry Birds life sized?” I didn’t need a phone that big, I told myself. And, physically, there was plenty to keep me with a smaller form factor. The more I worked out, the smaller I want my devices (I have a fear of gadgets falling out of my pockets). Working in an office meant that I often wore nice(r) slacks, and having a big piece of technology jammed into them doesn’t feel or look right, especially with my keys and wallet in there as well. I’m not George Costanza.
I laughed. Every time. I joked. I giggled. And they shrugged it off. “We like it. We got used to it.” Nope, not me. I don’t want to carry around a tablet just for phone calls.
Over the years, as I became more accustomed to using touch screens, I also realized my dexterity wanted a slightly bigger screen. The original 3.5 inch screens were fine because we didn’t know better. The larger displays of the iPhone 5 and 5S certainly helped, but I still find myself making typos often. The perfect size would be somewhere around 5 inches in diagonal.
When the iPhone 6 was announced this week, and my two-year contract was up, I knew immediately that I was in luck. At 4.7 inches, it nailed everything I needed: size, battery life, screen resolution, camera, call quality. Perfection!
Except it wasn’t. Sure, everything was better than the iPhone 5 I have now, but one peak over its shoulder was yet another phone. This phone, the iPhone 6 Plus, had an even better screen, an even better camera, horizon mode, and a much longer battery life. As someone who drives 3-4 hours per day, battery life is incredibly important to me. How could I buy one phone when there was another, even better, at just a bit bigger?
Five point five inches. That number — that evil, evil number — made me reevaluate everything about my techual purchase habits. If I was to get a phone that was going to last two more years, it better be the best of its ilk. The 6 Plus was that phone. I spent the last two days mocking up models of both sizes to see how they fit me, how easy they would be to maneuver around with, to interact with. The 4.7 inches of the 6 is perfect, and yet there is the beast staring at me, calling to me, telling me about its better features.
DAMMIT. If I buy that size, I now join the same people that I pointed at, that I made fun of. My pride would be completely shot. I would have to walk back to my friends and relatives with my head down and say “You were right. You won. I lost.” I would be wrong, and that’s a hard thing to swallow. I was a jerk. I was a hypocrite. And now I have to endure the walk of tech shame. I have to eat the largest crow possible.
I’m going to buy the iPhone 6 Plus and I’m going to have to learn to say “You were right.” At least, I hope, I won’t have to repeat this again any time soon.
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