No? How about now, after recently ditching my old, “I pride myself on being functionally non-functional” phone?
Good.
So yes, today I finally caved and bought a new phone. A sleekly designed, highly mobile, extremely docile, complete with an ascetic blue cover and flip capability new phone. My original phone, purchased about a year ago, in conjunction with a somewhat stifling 2 year agreement (What? You want me to commit to owning a phone for two years?! Gasp! What if I decide that cellular phones really do cause cancer, or that I’m going to leave the country, or that signing two year agreements give me hives?) decided it would be schizophrenic in its ability to carry out the most basic of all phone functions ever since I dropped it a few months after I bought it. I haven’t met anyone with a cell phone that can admit to never dropping it (If you haven’t dropped it, you will); In my opinion dropping your phone is part of the experience of owning a phone. But anyway, my point is this: Although slightly scratched, my phone worked well enough, and besides, the scars from contact with pavement, coffee tables and linoleum floors only made my phone look more tough. So, to explain my phone’s unpredictable outbursts, I ended up running with the logic that if we all feel a little drawn to possessing multiple personalities, why should my phone be excluded in the fun?
But just recently my phone took the charade a little too far and decided it would wear out completely, a good 9 months before its pre-ordained time to be traded for a bigger and better phone.
The suddenness of my phone’s apparent abandonment of its presupposed functions left me feeling vulnerable and dealing with slight abandonment issues. I was wholly unprepared for the huge transition of phone switching; More to the point, if I would have known I was going to walk out of Radio Shack only after spending an obscene amount of cash on my albeit rad new phone, I would have more properly mentally prepared myself. I mean, really. Shouldn’t the Great Shack or the phone’s manufacturer be responsible for somewhere printing a memo to the wireless user that goes a little something like this:
WARNING: Dropping your phone multiple times will eventually render it damaged beyond repair. Oh, and if your phone becomes damaged, whether said damage remains your fault or the company’s fault, we the company, in connection with the retailer that sold you your phone, will deny any responsibility for said damage, and will not repair it. Nor will we the company and we the retailer replace it for free, or for a nominal fee. Rather, you the naive and clumsy consumer will be forced to purchase a brand new phone, for the topmost sticker price, because by the time your phone wears out most likely you will still be a good year away from the end of your initial two year agreement, and thus, still a year away from your ability to upgrade to a better, less damaged phone.
As you may have gathered no such notice exists on the box, the receipt or the phone itself. Lesson learned.
After purchasing my phone today I decided that I’m going to fabricate some type of fabulously ornate cozy little carrying space for my new little phone in the hopes that it may live out the remainder of it’s hopefully long existence in peace–free from scrapes, harsh weather conditions, exploding pens in backpacks, and the occasional /oops, you’re a slippery phone!/ trauma. Don’t laugh. It’s going to be great. And your phone is going to be jealous of my phone’s fabulously ornate cozy little carrying space.
Dear pretty new phone,
I promise I will never drop you on your pretty little head. But you know I probably will, so please forgive me in advance for breaking my promise. Just know that I rely upon you, and think your midnight blue cover fiercely beautiful. Please also note: You are hereby obliged to always keep your unwritten, yet fundamentally agreed upon, promise to not break. Ever. No, really. Please don’t break.
Appreciatively,
The girl with the warm sticky ear
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