I guess many Mac-users came to the Mac on a route like mine, which begins with the iPod. I used my first iPod with a PC, and that iPod lured me to the Mac, a 17" beauty, after a year with which I went to the 15", then to the 13" PowerBook, thereafter to the 13" MacBook Air and its upgrade in the following year, and Friday last week I received from Singapore the 11" i7 MacBook Air, on which I am typing this piece. In the time between those laptops I’ve shopped for two iMacs, and as regards the iPad, I bought it quite quickly after it was born, and the iPad-2 not too late after its issue, and now I am hoping the iPad-3 will arrive after a decent pause because I must rush first for the iPhone-5 to wherever a not-locked version goes on sale after that model is released. I’m breathless, in spite of an insatiable appetite for whatever they design at Infinite Loop in Cupertino.
In the meantime I am wondering if I should replace my Apple Cinema Displays with the Thunderbolt versions, but I haven’t any takers for the two I have, one at work and the other at home.
My wife and my son get the models I give up, and they disappoint me by using Windows on Apple machines. But of course they are helpless, because at work they must abide by Windows, the official operating system, whereas on my stubborn part I hold my head high with an Apple in hand in my Windows workplace—my Mac with two-screenfuls of apps written purely for OS X.
OS X took its time to take over me after I’d switched—not in one discernible instant, but after some days and weeks with OS X, Windows began to feel so irksome that I began to refuse to touch the keys on a PC or to move its mouse on occasions when PC owners worked with me with their PCs. Eight years have passed since the Mac came into my life, and my monogamy with it is still without threat.
Let me start with the purchase, and ask you, do you share my emotion: The wrapping on the sleek box; the shallow tray in it on which the device rests; the side-compartment for the white cables; the so-slim user-manual that respects in the extreme the intelligence of the user: the obsession begins there, then, from the first first brush with the skin of the packaging. Then that delicious moment when you lift the device off the tray. Apple devices have a product-quality so high, and Apple never advertise their quality. Even after you have owned several Apple products, the feel of your new Apple relives the first fervor. The heft of it! The snugness of its corners in your palm! The faultless ergonomics! And the display, which is surely and predictably and incredibly more scintillating than on the last Apple you bought.
Even those who haven't ever experienced a Mac aver that its OS is stable. But that is just the small part. As you use it, the Mac’s features strike you like liqueur squirting in the mouth from a capsule of chocolate. Like how a cocktail stirs you that is shaken and not stirred. Every piece of the product—hardware and software—is a thorough left-brain creation that integrates with the right-brain vision of a genius. If you wish to achieve flow, go use a Mac, a device so intuitive that it seems as though God created man and Mac both together and kept the Mac for Himself and started to share it only recently. When you are in flow with a Mac, in that moment, your soul meets the soul of the machine and you realize that the soul in the machine is the wondrous soul of Steve.
I adore the Mac and its every cousin from Apple: in part for the pleasure it gives me, but much more for the lesson it tells the businessman in me regarding how deeply a business can connect with whom it serves.
Thank you, Steve.