A Slab of Beauty

Full disclosure: I am in love with my iPhone 5. I won't go so far as writing it is the best, but that's because I haven't used any other smartphones to make a fair comparison, not because it lacks a feature I require/desire. (Although, based on what I've read/seen, I'm guessing NFC would be nice.)

Recently, I finished reading the iPhone User Guide that comes preloaded as a Safari bookmark. A couple months ago, my parents purchased a radiation heater for their bedroom. To ensure proper set-up, I went through the included User Manual to learn the different buttons on the display and their functions, etc. It was fairly simple, and the whole process from opening the box to reading through the Manual took less than 15 minutes. It occurred to me, then, that if I am prepared to read the User Manual of an item my parents will use for, may be, three months a year, how is it that I am yet to read the User Guide for a product that's almost never out my sight/reach? 

Think about it: whether it's a heater, a blender, or hair dye, one is inclined to read the instructions before using it to ensure safety, proper use, etc. But how often do we think of reading the instructions for our smartphone, laptop, or automobile? If we are worried about misusing the heater or the blender, should that logic not apply to items much more expensive and useful? 

Granted, we know how to use a smartphone or a laptop on a general basis, just like we have a basic idea of how to use a heater or a blender. But for a product we will be using so intimately and depending upon so heavily, why should we choose to be familiar with it only on a general basis? We don't necessarily need to understand the engineering behind touch-screen technology or Dynamic Stability Control, but being aware of it on a deeper level than merely knowing it by name results in our being more appreciative of one of our prized possessions' capabilities and respectful of the intelligence and ingenuity that went in its creation.

With these thoughts in mind, I set out to read the iPhone User Guide. It was one of the most gripping, insightful, and marvelous reads I've had. Now that I'm familiar with the iPhone 5 on a level deeper than mere use, I have a newfound appreciation for the way it must have run through the stages of product development--idea generation, idea screening, concept development, business analysis, market testing, technical implementation, commercialization, and pricing--and respect for the people in charge of those stages. Trying to balance engineering ideals, ergonomic practicalities, and economic realities is no cakewalk. The fact that such a sleek, high-performance, and, indeed, beautiful product was the result is incredible.

One is able to fully comprehend its capabilities when you see its features in list format. Think about the depth and breadth of thought and imagination that must have been poured into its creation. It is mind-boggling. I counted 60 available language keyboards. That is simply amazing. Consider its most innovative and taken-for-granted feature: the multi-touch screen. Read about the Accessibility feature to get an idea of the programming that has gone into recognizing the myriad swipes, pinches, and twists. It is beyond amazing; it is humbling.

One can argue--validly--how such a degree of connectivity and back-end complexity is complicating our lives instead of simplifying it. In my opinion, like so many things in life, it's a matter of choice. One can decry technology, but there's no denying how capable it allows me to feel. Life has gone from being siloed to being seamless. Whether that's a good thing or not depends from person to person. As for the iPhone 5, from its supremely low weight and crispness of touch to Siri, Safari, iCloud, iTunes, Camera, Compass, and so on, it is a delight. And as of this writing, I have explored less than a percent of the App Store. Next on my reading list: the MINI Cooper Driver's Manual.