We’re an Apple family at our house, which ensures that each time a new iPhone is rumored, announced or released, conversation turns to who will get the new device first. Who’s more in need of a new phone — my wife or me? Who’s eligible for an upgrade? And what will we do with the old iPhone when the new one is purchased? Perhaps you know the routine.
Four or five years ago, this started a practice of passing down the used phones to our kids. Without a call plan on them, the old iPhones make perfect equivalents to iTouches, suitable for surfing the Web on Wi-Fi, playing games and music and just about everything else one can do without a voice and data plan.
In other words, this lets you make the most of phones that are already paid for without the additional commitment of more ongoing monthly service fees. Call it the inevitable shakeout of Apple’s carefully constructed cycle of planned obsolescence — we pay too much for these things to let them just fade off into oblivion every couple of years.
Our hand-me-downing reached a new level just over a year ago, when our eldest child entered middle school and we decided it was time for him to have a phone of his own. A true phone, with a call plan and monthly bill to boot.
Middle school is the point at which, my wife and I agree, the time is right for a child to have their first phone, a proper intersection of both assumed responsibility and logistical convenience. There comes a point when that child’s ability to call a parent from a friend’s house, a school activity, etc., is a practical necessity. With kids in after-school events at Lincoln Junior High or Madison, Washington or Jefferson or wherever school your children attend, it helps for them to reach out to coordinate pickup times and such.
Theoretically, said phone also exists so parents can get hold of the child. Never mind that I could count on one hand the number of times I have successfully called or texted the boy. You’d think that for the people who pay the bills, there would be some sort of guaranteed response feature built into these things. Or into the child. Alas, there’s no app for that.
A parent’s perpetual inability to reach their child is all the more vexing when you see the device in their hands constantly. Like some sort of new appendage that magically sprouted for which we parents have the privilege of paying. Did I mention that part?
So it came as no surprise that when the new iPhone operating system came out — timed to the release of the latest iPhone model — the boy rushed to update his phone as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, the new iOS was a little buggy at first and “bricked” some phones, that is to say, rendered them useless, stuck in a limbo called “recovery mode” until the updated update could be installed. A bricked phone is a big problem for those with newly sprouted appendages.
That ushered in a few tense days at our house when the boy was left without a phone for the first time in a year. He was in a near tizzy, unable to call or text or Snapchat or whatever it is he does on that thing. His inconvenience quickly became ours. You know, like when a parent calls a child’s phone because they need to reach them but can’t.
Repeated attempts to update the phone with the updated iOS proved fruitless, leading me to investigate replacement options, sending me to the store of our phone carrier and eventually to Apple, hoping that one or the other would either bring the phone back to life or offer an acceptable promotion for replacement.
Would we get the new phone working again? Was this a sign that it was time for him to upgrade to a newer phone — perhaps even the latest model? Was it time for my wife or me to upgrade, and the boy would get one of our phones as a replacement? All questions we considered.
Just as I was resigned to the fact that his phone was indeed a goner, a last-ditch evening trip to the Genius Bar at Apple saved the day. An Apple employee was able to coax the phone out of recovery mode ( — they really ARE geniuses! — and I was on my way.
Upon arriving home and returning the now-working phone to our son, I was greeted with mixed emotions. On one hand, he was happy to have a working phone again; on the other, any hope of parlaying his disabled phone for a new one went out the window.
We’ll ride that phone out a bit longer. Coming up on four years old, its top button no longer works — heck, newer models don’t even have a top button. The horror! Not to mention, the battery on the thing is so tired it seems to actually lose power sometimes when charging. That can’t be good.
The kid has a birthday coming up though, and he is eligible for an upgrade. Our daughter will be entering middle school next year, which means she’ll likely get a phone too, so there will be some shuffling.
Maybe by then they’ll figure out a way to ensure that kids will actually answer them.
Rob Manker is a freelance writer who lives and parents in Naperville.
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Twitter: @RobManker