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.”
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