Do you remember hearing the expression, “There’s no sense having anything good in the house with youngsters around?”
Lord knows we’ve all heard a version of it more than once in our lives.
Well, I have never been one to be particularly rough on things, nor have I worried about having anything that particularly “good.”
Take technology, for example. My laptop is old and heavy enough to effectively stick on the end of a barbell. Heave a bag of flour on the other end and you’ve got yourself a workout. Yes there are lightweight, thin, more streamlined and user-friendly versions that boast faster speeds and more features, but they hold little to no temptation for me. Mine suits me just fine.
Earlier this summer, though, after much mockery from my own children, it was determined that perhaps my old-as-dirt cellphone might be due for a little upgrade. There was nothing wrong with the device I had; in fact it was quite suitable for me. It was small enough to fit in my pocket, could make and take calls as well as fancy phones, and could text along with the best of them — texting had only just been invented when my old phone was made.
So, after receiving my umpteenth notice from our cellular provider telling me I was due for an upgrade, I eventually caved and went to my local cellphone store.
They, too, got a little chuckle out of my antique device and were quick to show me what the rest of the world has been loving for years: the iPhone. Just like that, I joined the masses and started downloading apps.
Well, imagine my disillusion when one day I went to use the menu button and discovered it to be a little stubborn. Sure enough it started taking several pushes of the button to get it working. So, after ignoring the trouble for an unexpectedly long time, I eventually called the fruit-loving creators, who were quick to help solve the problem. Good crowd they’ve got working with them, I have to say.
A new phone later I was back in business and loving it.
So, last week, while walking up the street holding my phone in one hand and some paperwork on top of it, I was unknowingly about to receive a call. But before hearing my lovely bluesy guitar ringtone, the vibration feature kicked in first. I must have been deep in thought because the initial jiggle startled me and before you could say Apple, the phone went flying out of my hand toward the pavement.
You know how you can have a dozen thoughts in less than one tenth of a second? That was me.
“Oh crap, I’m going to drop my phone! Yep, there it goes, falling towards the street. Good thing I bought the fancy case that’s supposed to protect it from just about anything — glad it came with a screen protector too!” Thud! “What’s that? Are those wrinkles in the plastic of the screen protector? Air bubbles?” Sure enough, a web of cracks went from one end of the screen to the other.
Then there was stuff I can’t have printed, even if they were thoughts and not spoken words.
I was devastated. I’d dropped my old phone a thousand times, without a case, and she never suffered such damage.
Back to the phone store and, oddly enough, in a place where speaking keeps them in business, there wasn’t a word said.
I walked in, held up my phone, received a knowing look, was handed a little piece of paper with contact information for a repair person, then left.
For a price my screen will be crack free again, and I will have the only iPhone in history with a piece of Velcro attached to the back of it, and the other piece attached to my own hand.
Email Paula Tessier at firstname.lastname@example.org.