Well it happened? My phone died?
Sorry, I can’t take your calls because my phone died.
It wasn’t a horrible death of dropping into a toilet or smashing it under the wheel of an 18-wheeler, but it just gave up a long and faithful life.
Back in 2009 I had two cell phones and wanted to consolidate and eliminate, as was the mood of the time.
So since there was no long AT&T, I went into a Verizon store and stated my problem. Get rid of one line and update the other to a new number. Much computer clicking and telephone calls and paperwork and I walked out with one flip cell phone, two old obsolete phones and a pile of paperwork and a huge bill.
I found a barbershop that said they recycled old phones to military so I donated.
Now I had to figure out this new phone. Seemed simple enough but there was a book, in several languages, about the size of the Bible that did step by step plans of programming in contacts, pictures, games, sounds, etc. Luckily the type was small so I skipped most of it and just learned how to turn it on and turn it off.
And when contractors would ask for my phone number I had to think because I never called myself.
The landline had been gone for years but the wire still connected to the house, like the abandoned Continental Cable line.
So this little flip phone became a constant companion. One of the three things I carried everyday. I realized a cell phone was handy since I was out and about on my bike and could be reached if needed.
A few years in I realized I didn’t get that many calls and I didn’t call anyone so the cell phone became a balance weight that was slipped into my pocket every morning and taken out before sleep. The phone would stay on until I heard that beep that the battery was low.
Recent years I’ve shut down the phone at night and start it up in the morning for the battery kept showing signs of weakness. After three calls the battery would quit. Sometimes the battery would quit in the middle of a call. Sorry.
Though the phone had several options of a camera, video, Internet connection, music storage, texting and whatever other toys included; I never used them. I did take one photo of a tree cut down but it had to be downloaded to a removable card then placed into another device to plug in a USB so the computer could recognize it and download it. It was old technology.
Back to the story after the back-story, I walk into the same store I went to years ago and declared “I have a dead phone.”
Naturally I’d done my Internet homework to look at options and made my decision on what I wanted. Could I be swayed by all the glitz and the glamour? Did I need a GPS to know where I was or where I was going? Did I need to capture every event and send it out to the world hoping someone would comment? Did I need to carry around music that was better than what was floating around in my head?
After scraping of the hieroglyphs from the old phone the two Indian (PC, I assume by their accent and appearance so not profiling) employees found a piece of hardware similar to what I had and started making phone calls and computer connections to the master company of V to get me readjusted and upgraded to the new decade.
A pleasant and productive and fairly fast transaction I left with a brand spanking new phone that was just like my ole warhorse with similar features and the same pad layout. Now it is time to reprogram in contacts and delete trash already loaded on it. It did pick up my messaging and call waiting with only minor changes.
“Hello? Hello?? No, I don’t need any auto insurance unless you buy me a car, thank you.”