Unless you can't talk.

Ironically, after that last post I had laryngitis for five days.  Relying as much as I do on talking into my phone to send messages, I was very frustrated.

The fun part was when I would gesture and friends would deliberately misinterpret it.  Laughing like that kept me going.

Laryngitis is what got me going on this blog, and I've had it since, too.

A phone is for talking...?

As is well known, an iPhone isn't a great phone.  Its form factor, plus AT&T's irregular service, results in not effectively being able to hear the people you're trying to talk to.

I love my iPhone, and it changed my life and the way I think about information and action.  But I don't like talking on it.  But who needs talk?  Texting, email, Facebook -- I can connect with people through my phone without actually talking.  It's not just an app device -- it is indeed a device for connecting with people, redefining the adverb "telephonically."

Initially, there were also complaints about the iPhone keypad.  Blackberry users felt that a keyboard with actual buttons was much easier to use.  There was this repetitive strain injury called "Blackberry thumb" from people typing so frequently with their thumbs on their RIM devices.

Clearly, we have moved on from the keypad issue.  Those of us who were using T9 on our little flip phones thought that anything that had actual letters was great.  Whatever you think of autocorrect, the iPhone is your partner in typing quickly.

Now, with Siri, with the marvelous Google search app with voice recognition -- in fact, since every keypad that pops up includes a little microphone button -- it's even easier.  More quickly than typing, I can dictate my messages, my emails, my search requests.  Rather than wearing a headset to improve my experience of phone conversations, I now wear one so that my phone can recognize my voice and help me send the clearest email and text messages to people.

Talking on the phone has come full circle.

Saved by the zombies

Of course I sleep with my iPhone next to me. Who doesn't?

This morning I planned to sleep late and go into work late.  As I awoke a little before 8, I reached for my iPhone ... and there was a message from the dean from 7:42 AM.  Urgent: He was going before the Regents at 9:30, and did I have some data for him.

I did not have the data.  Not in my bed, not on my iPhone ... and not in my office.  It didn't really exist.

This was my first dean-related fire drill since I took this job in September.  My credibility was on the line.

I did what I normally do when faced with something that looks limiting: I reframed it.  On my iPhone, in my bed, I wrote the dean a note that explained that what the Regents were asking him about was limiting, too small, and that he should answer it giving the following (qualitative) information, which was much more sophisticated than what the original question asked for.

I then threw my clothes on and ran out of the house to try to get to work in time to dig up the nonexistent data, calling a member of my team so she could get started on it.  Some colleagues also chimed in with some data.  I had pretty much nothing, but at 9:30, I took a break, knowing I'd done all I could do.

Then I started following the Regents meeting on Twitter ... and found that at about 9:30 students dressed as zombies did the Thriller dance in order to protest fee hikes.  All the usual clean-up ensued, delaying the session.

In fact, the dean didn't go on until about 3:30.  I was confused to see that the discussion was about diversity, which, while important, was not on the agenda and not what he had asked me about.  Actually, the Regents started by asking him one question about diversity, and then they argued among themselves.  Twitter then showed that the item the dean was there for was voted on and over, and they moved on.

When I ran into the dean later at work, he showed me the briefing that the Regents had had, the briefing that he saw this morning when he emailed me.  His piece was breakthrough, both for the university and for all schools like ours -- and the agenda had highlighted it as a potential problem, essentially putting a bullseye on his back.  He was ready to be mauled.  He needed my data as a shield.

Instead, the zombies delayed things so much that, after taking the time to air their criticism of the university's diversity, the Regents approved the dean's request without discussion.  And there was much rejoicing on our parts.

And the dean thought my reframing was brilliant and wants to incorporate it into school strategy.  It might not have been the shield he would have needed, but I passed my first dean's fire drill.

I am quite grateful that we were all saved by the zombies.

Put me in an ad.

A colleague told me that I was a perfect advertisement for the iPhone 4S. While sitting next to him at the Twins vs. Cubs at Target Field in Minneapolis, I:

Checked in at Target Field on Facebook. Checked the weather so I could report that it was 88 degrees.  Took a photo of the field and uploaded it, too. 
Texted the photo of the field to my brother. 
Used google to find out that the white 1965 flag represented when the Twins won the AL but lost to the Dodgers in the World Series. 
Looked up th capacity of Target Field (39,504) and the new Yankee Stadium (50,291)
Received a call from my dad, who called to tell me he'd run into the younger brother of my high school boyfriend. 
Emailed several times. 
Looked up the most common male names in the U.S. (James)
Updated one of my contacts. 
Found out that the Twins are last in the AL central, 8.5 games back (before they won the game today)
Texted with a friend about the morning's bar mitzvah. 
Took pictures of my group (using the reverse camera) and posted them on Facebook. 
Received a call from my cousin regarding dinner plans. 
Used Shazam to identify the song being played. 
Said "ice cream" to Siri so she could tell me where I could find nearby places to get some. 
Used the mapping feature to get directions back to the hotel. 

Yeah, it was a dull game.