Sources close to Apple’s executive group indicate that the coming of fall has put the people responsible for the day to day operations of everyone’s favorite computer company into a melancholy mood.
All about the Apple campus, Senior Vice Presidents have been seen staring off into space, sighing heavily or listening to “Nights In White Satin” by the Moody Blues on their iPods.
“I wonder whatever happened to Tina, that girl that sat next to me in Trig?” mused Apple Senior Vice President of the iPod division Jon Rubinstein. “I wonder if she still shakes her hair that way and has that funny little pout?
“I wonder if she’s forgotten about the time I puked into her backpack?
“Ah, Tina. What might have been… if I hadn’t… barfed in your… backpack…”
Chief Software Technology Officer Avie Tevanian spent much of the day picking up the phone and dialing the first few digits of an old friend’s phone number before hanging up.
“I can’t ask him to forgive me for pantsing him that time. I blew it. I pantsed a good friend. You should never pants a good friend. You probably shouldn’t pants any friend. Well, I don’t want to go that far. But not in front of the entire high school. And a visiting school’s football team. And everyone’s parents. And the cheerleaders. And some gathered media.
“I have no right to call him,” Tevanian concluded, shaking his head sadly. “‘Twas the pantsing that came between us.
“You know, I think that was mascot night, too…”
In his office, a broken Senior Vice President of Software Engineering Bertrand Serlet sat staring out the window, a single tear falling down his cheek.
“L’amour…” Serlet mumbled to no on in particular. “L’amour…”
Mac pundits expressed their hope that this fit of self reflection passes quickly and the senior levels of Apple’s staff return to business soon.
“A little introspection is good for the soul,” said the San Jose Mercury News’ Dan Gillmor. “But Apple’s executives should beware not to fall into a fit of pointless second-guessing.
“Take me, for example. Do I sit around bemoaning my decisions, like going into journalism or giving up on a budding professional bowling career or not spending more time with my brother or beating that waiter to death in Hong Kong when he spilled hot and sour soup on my chinos? No.”
After an uncomfortable silence Gillmor shifted slightly in his chair and said defensively “Well, I don’t. Uh-uh. No, sir.”