As often as I am tempted to spool my car window down and toss it out when I cross the Ogeechee River I have to admit I approached panic mode earlier this week when my cell phone suddenly quit working.
Nobody, including me, keeps a Rolodex anymore. Inside that phone was much of the information I need to get my job done and suddenly it was unavailable to me.
The weird part was that my phone wasn’t really broken, I was locked out it. In order to make the thing work I have to enter a passcode. If I enter the wrong code the screen does this little vibrating thing, sort of like my third grade teacher shaking her finger at me when I misspelled “hundred,” which really wasn’t my fault. She wore dentures and I thought she said “hungry,” which I was. It was almost lunch time and the aroma of the mystery meat and yeast rolls cooked up by the cafeteria ladies that morning was fogging my mind.
Anyway back to my phone, I think I must have done something to make it mad. Maybe it got jealous when I looked at another phone in the circular in the newspaper because suddenly I was being spurned like the husband of a woman who had caught him red handed and changed the lock on the door. Just like the unfaithful husband trying over and over again to make his key fit in the new lock with no success – over and over again I tried my passcode only to have the phone figuratively shake its finger at me.
On top of that, and even worse, was that for some reason when someone called the phone would ring and I could answer it but that’s the only thing it would let me do. Of all the features on the phone my least favorite is receiving calls – unless it’s someone from Publisher’s Clearing House calling.
Not to be outsmarted by this smarter-than-me phone I took it to the store where I bought it. Surely, one of those young guys with the skinny ties who can type with their thumbs faster than I can think would know the solution.
When I told the skinny tie guy my problem a look of bewilderment came over his face that I took to reflect something like “Why do I always get these old and in the way guys who probably can’t operate a light switch. Don’t they know I get paid when I sell stuff not to tell them how to turn their phones on?”
Despite what is his expression and body language revealed he took a shot at it, then another shot and then a few more. He scratched his head, he looked for passwords and usernames and he swore. When he tried unsuccessfully to access something called “the cloud” a vein in his neck started to bulge and throb. After about 15 minutes he looked at me and said “I’ve never seen anything like this before” and told me a couple of things I could try at home.
By this time I didn’t really care. I was actually kind of happy that it wasn’t something so simple to solve that a kid could do it; which is usually the case with me when it comes to technological stuff.
I even ignored his home-cure suggestions. I just took my phone home and left it alone. Sometimes doing nothing is the best thing and low and behold it was this time. When I woke up the next morning, just for fun, I entered my passcode and my phone fired right up. Immediately I could access all the important stuff people send me. Like the email from the Artificial Christmas Tree Association about the thousands, if not millions, of folks who will become ill this year because they are allergic to live Christmas trees.
Anyway I am thinking I was right about my phone being jealous. Maybe its temporary reluctance to accept my passcode was its way of figuratively making me sleep on the couch for the night and by the next morning all was forgiven. I’ll have to be careful with my wandering eyes.
I just hope it doesn’t find out about that old pink Princess rotary phone in the box of stuff from my mother’s house out in the garage.