Apple Watch Part 2: Jealousy and Betrayal

Last week I discussed my new Apple Watch. The main focus of that column was the financial implication of the purchase; that is, whether it made much sense to spend $400 on a tiny wrist computer that does a few interesting applications along with telling time. If you missed that column, this was my conclusion: buying the Apple Watch did indeed make financial sense, in the same way it made financial sense for the Ford Motor Company to introduce the Edsel.

I’m lamenting my impulsive fiscal decision, and I now realize whenever I’m faced with any type of monetary situation for the rest of my life, a little voice inside my head will say to me, “You know, pal, you could’ve had an extra 400 bucks in your pocket right now if you didn’t buy that dopey watch.” To make matters worse, I did not realize there also were going to be emotional implications.

Since I now own a $400 watch, I am, of course, darn well going to wear the thing. And to be honest, I’m starting to get used to checking it for emails, text messages, and stolen signs from the New York Yankees’ catcher. 

So, about six weeks after I bought the Apple watch, I was looking for something on the top of my dresser, and I spotted my trusty old $35 Timex Ironman digital watch. “Hi, old buddy,” I said. The watch did not reply.

“Hey,” I offered a bit louder, “How you doing?”

The Timex glanced at me briefly and muttered, “What do you care?”

“Now now, what’s the matter?” I asked. The watch just stared at me.

Finally, it said, “Seriously? You have no idea? You’re really that oblivious?”

“Wait,” I said, “You’re not mad about the Apple Watch, are you?”

“Oh gee, what do you think?” the Timex said sarcastically. “Just ponder this for a moment: we used to be inseparable. For years we went everywhere together, you and me. We were a team. And then one day, all of a sudden — bam! — I find myself sitting here collecting dust next to your spare change holder, and you won’t even give me the time of day.”

I replied, “Well, I didn’t think you needed the time of day because, um, you’re a watch.”

“Very funny,” the Timex said. “Why don’t you look up ‘figure of speech’ on your fancy new wrist computer, Einstein?”

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” I pleaded. “It’s not like I’m NEVER going to wear you again. In fact, I was planning to cut down some tree limbs next weekend, and I was gonna wear you when I did that.”

“Why?” the watch asked.

“Because the Apple Watch has a delicate touch screen,” I said. “It might break.”

“Oh, so I’m your blue collar timepiece, huh?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” I said.

“Do you wear your fancy new watch to the beach or in the shower?” the Timex asked.

“Well, they say it’s water resistant,” I explained, “but the instruction manual also says to avoid ‘high velocity water,’ along with soap and shampoo.”

“Do you wear it to bed?” the Timex said.

“No, I need to re-charge it overnight.”

“So, let me get this straight,” my trusty old Ironman digital said. “You spent $400 for a fragile, high-maintenance wrist computer that’s afraid of water and needs to be plugged in every night?”

“No, you’ve got it all—”

“In other words,” the Timex interrupted, “You spent four Benjamins for a wuss watch?! Ha ha!” 

I never thought my old watch would be so upset. There’s only one solution. I need to start a new fashion trend: one watch on each wrist.