One bright light in frustration


There are those who claim to have seen Bigfoot walking by their campsite. Others have stated emphatically that they have seen the Loch Ness monster peek her head through the water and mist. And I have heard tell of giant pink monsters dancing up and down Route 1 in Dewey Beach, but I did hear those tales from people who had been celebrating a little hard that particular night.

Coastal Point • Jesse Pryor

But I can top them all.

I saw Shaun Lambert visibly frustrated the other night. I kid you not — the man who shrugs his shoulders and smiles when the world is falling down around him actually seemed to be getting upset at the office. We were having technical issues. Shaun is our technical guy. Hence, Shaun was having issues.

It was one of those evenings when things were very busy on deadline and people were pretty much locked into their own little worlds, while only two distinct sounds broke the tense silence — the pitter-patter of fingers on keyboards and Shaun’s name being called from one direction or another to fix the problems.

We all expect Shaun to just walk over, cast some ancient Eskimo incantation over our computers and everything simply goes back to normal. We don’t question him or even really care what he just did. The only thing that matters is that Shaun knows how to make our sick computers feel all better.

And he does it with a smile on his face and a kind word.

But not on this night. No, Shaun was struggling to figure it out, and he was getting frustrated. He never really turned mean to anybody, but you could visibly see the pulse on his neck dancing the Macarena whenever his name would be called out again. Part of me was rooting for Shaun to just explode on the next person to demand his attention, but the other half of me was hoping he wouldn’t, because the next person in need could have been me.

And he’s a big boy. A big boy who has been penning up his frustrations for years.

Regardless, we ended up getting through that night’s tasks, and it ended up where Shaun and I were the last two in the office. We started talking about everything that had gone wrong, and how he was frustrated that he just couldn’t solve the problem, when I predictably lost focus, pulled out my new iPhone and asked Shaun a technical question about it.

The darkness lifted. Shaun’s mood immediately brightened and he pulled out his own iPhone. The two of us started going on and on about the phone and all the cool things you can do with it, and Nanuq the Great had me excited about all the possibilities with my new toy.

We wrapped up our conversation and headed our separate ways for the night, and I was half-giddy in anticipation of getting home and trying out some of the cool things on my iPhone that Shaun was telling me about.

Rushing into the house and scooting aside the dogs greeting me with their wagging tails and love-filled eyes, I parked myself on the sofa and embarked on a mission to either discover every possibility on an iPhone or develop debilitating carpal tunnel syndrome.

There are applications available for nearly everything. I found an app that will use GPS to locate where you are and find the closest cab company. Apps that will use that same technology to find nearby restaurants and pharmacies, and apps to help you find your car in a crowded parking lot. And perhaps the most useful one I’ve found so far gives me a plethora of falutulence sounds that I can unleash at any time I see fit.

I find a lot of times I see fit. Tee hee.

But now I sound like a shill for Apple. Make no mistake, I find the iPhone to be a lot of fun, and the sound on calls is better than any cell phone I’ve had before. It is a good device, all around. However, this is a story about a frustrated Eskimo technical wizard and his plight with a persistent problem in our office.

Well, that, and his love for the iPhone.

Did I mention that there’s an app that moos at you like a cow? And one that is designed to help you quit smoking...

But I digress.