Like everyone else in America, I am attached to my iPod. My first one was a Shuffle, circa 2004, of the original white plastic Shuffle vintage. I used it during workouts and quite literally ran it into the ground.
My next iPod was inherited from JT, who himself inherited two iPods, one from his grandfather and the other from my sister. Both Grandpa and Auntie KO were in possession of these iPods thanks to financial dealings with my nephews, who sold off their old iPods at a decent return and used the proceeds to buy shiny new iPods. The inherited iPods were more sophisticated than my sad old Shuffle. JT had one; I had the other and all was right in our musical world.
Two years ago, JT received a Nano iPod from his grandparents for Christmas, at which point I got both of the old iPods. One went to the car and the other lived in my gym bag. This week the car iPod, which always had some quirks, died, seemingly for good. I am now down to one iPod that I move from the car to the gym as needed.
But JT, never one to miss out on the prospect of a financial deal that might be to his benefit, has taken a page from his cousins. He is now looking to sell me his used Nano at an inflated price. The profits will be combined with his cash and immediately turned over to the Apple Corporation in exchange for a new iPod. I've yet to fall for the deal, but I am living with the pushiest salesman ever, one who seems deeply concerned about the inconvenience I incur when I must unplug the iPod from the car and bring it into the gym. He's worried that I might suffer a deadly repetitive motion injury when I complete this iPod heavy lifting. He only wants to best for me. I deserve a new-to-me iPod.
Thus far, I have resisted the pressure. But it's an open question as to how long I can withstand the onslaught. That little blue Nano iPod is cute. And I've been known to fall for the boy's nonsense on previous occasions.