Apple's latest conference was rotten to the core

Oh, Steve Jobs.

I had such high hopes for your latest press conference.

I wanted you, like the rest of the world, to tell me you had made a mistake with your new phone and were correcting it.

I wanted you to tell me everything would be OK.

I wanted you to make me want the new iPhone again.

But you didn't.

Instead, you took the easy way out.

Instead of admitting the widespread, well-known problem of your antenna, you decided to play the blame game.

It's disheartening, Mr. Jobs.

You said it had been "blown so out of proportion that it's incredible," according to videos of the conference.

You said that there wasn't really an "Antennagate." You said the issues weren't unique to Apple and even went so far as to emulate problems with other devices.

Problems the companies themselves deny actually happen and few people have been able to replicate on videos on YouTube and technology websites.

You said "phones aren't perfect," responding to criticisms about the media frenzy. You then said the media just wanted to tear you down because you'd become a big, successful company.

If only I could believe any of that, Mr. Jobs.

As a mostly satisfied iPhone 3G owner (that last update was horrible and made my phone a shell of its former, snappy and responsive self), I have to call shenanigans.

The problem with the
conference, Mr. Jobs, is that you skirted around the issue that demanded such a conference.

Instead of explaining why the design of the phone's antenna could possibly lose calls by holding it, you said you would give everyone a free case.

You avoided it further by saying 0.55 percent of all iPhone 4 customers had called Apple about the issue.

You said the phone had a 1.7 percent return rate at AT&T stores.

Both numbers ignore key information: Most customers don't call a manufacturer for a defective item but rather where they bought it, and the phone was available for pre-order at many stores (most of whom still have yet to be filled).

Friday was supposed to be the day I said "a-ha, it was a minor problem after all." I was supposed to spend money on a new phone, replacing my well-used 3G.

Nothing you said, despite impressive photos of your "Mount Doom"-esque testing labs, allayed my concerns.

You didn't address there could be a clear and present hardware defect in your phone.

Your case giveaway doesn't hide the fact the phone might not actually work right out of the box – something I think everyone will agree with is important when making a big-ticket purchase ($200 is a big deal for college students).

I want to believe, Mr. Jobs.

I want to.

But I won't buy something that is known to have an issue. I won't buy something that requires a case that, bizarrely, you won't be giving away past Sept. 30.

Brands are important items, Mr. Jobs. The ease of my iPhone has lead me to greater interest in your other, pricier products.

But since people first began noticing the problem, your reactions have been defensive and evasive.

I shouldn't ever have to use a peripheral device to make something work.

It's like printers that require you to buy a USB cord – everything should come ready to go. Even remote controls come with batteries.

I want to believe, Mr. Jobs. I really do. I want to enjoy that new display, that new, speedier model of a phone that consumes much of my day.

But I cannot. Not yet. I am still waiting for that elusive PowerPoint slide to say "Problem Solved."

Alas, I don't think we'll be seeing it any time soon.