With the iPhone coming soon and Steve Jobs’ WWDC keynote hot off the QuickTime player, I’m reminded of a great e-mail a good friend and client of ours sent us a few months ago about her experience at MacWorld Expo in San Francisco (I should have posted this back then … but it’s still fun):

Today I woke as I usually do, with expectations about who I am and what I will do today to make a difference. Personally and professionally.

One of my goals, visit MacWorld. Get inspired. See the new iPhone. Look at all the cool Apple do-dads that will make my future life more enjoyable, more productive. Check out the booths. Look for new and cool ways to improve my employers exhibit at a future show. I had high hopes that all of my dreams would be realized for this day.

Little did I know what was to befall my sense of peace, order and self realization.

I decided that I would wear what I usually wear to a tradeshow. Over twenty years in high tech marketing has defined my sense of style and professional appearance. Dressing for success is part of my genetics. So I grabbed my Jones of New York duds and my most comfortable, yet smart, pair of shoes. I felt confident that if I ran into anyone important, I would be “looking good.”

Up the peninsula I drove, a beautiful sunny California day. Things were just perfect. I looked good, felt good and the scenery was good. LIFE is good.

Moscone Center now across the street I even found what was probably the closest parking space imaginable. Things were going my way. I would arrive without a hair out of place.

In no time I was picking up my badge, imagine no line at registration, how could I be so lucky? I descended into the exhibit area. I was here in record time. If Steve were near I would have kissed him (on the cheek).

Right inside the door, the Apple booth and the…MUSIC UP…CLOSEUP…there it was, behind a tall cylindrical display the iPhone! A quiet crowd of worshippers were standing around the cylinder, cell phones raised like lighters at a concert. I pulled out my Canon digital camera…noticing I’m the only one using a camera. This began my fall.

Within minutes I noticed something very peculiar. I found the voice in my head was speaking, “where are my people.”

Everyone was wearing denim. Few of these people have even visited a professional salon or carried personal grooming devices. I began to feel like a spy…from IBM maybe or the government. I wasn’t supposed to be there, I was out of place. No one looks like me here. I felt old and uncool. And then it hit me…

I’m a PC!

I didn’t choose to be a PC. But after 20 years of being forced to think, act and work PC – I am a PC! Where’s the door…

I got out of there faster than I got in.

- Cynthia