by Carol Ziel
I am a serial cell phone loser. There should be a Twelve Step group for people like me.
“Hi, my name is Caroline and I just lost another cell phone!”
They fall into the toilet, the gutter, and the Twilight Zone. I rarely find them. I’m sure that they have formed some kind of club plotting to kidnap my current one.
Usually cell phones are black, navy, or brown and blend into the ambiance of coffee stains, sofa cushions, and area rugs. They are so small–small enough to fit in my bra. I have breast-fed twice so discreetly removing a cellphone from my bra is easy peasy, and if I keep it on vibrate it gives my day an extra kick, if you know what I mean.
Occasionally I have a senior moment and don’t know where the buzzing is coming from. Then my grandson tells me: “Babcia, your bosom is buzzing !”
This is an observation that hopefully will not arrest his development.
Last Tuesday I put it on the nightstand after work and it vaporized by morning so it was time to visit my friendly neighborhood Sprint store. If they had the same reward system as my favorite coffee cartel has it would be time for a freebie: if you lose 8 you get one free. No way.
This time my primary criteria for buying a phone was size because sometimes size does matter. I wanted the biggest phone in stock, and I got it–a 3″ by 7″ Otter iPhone; it is almost as big as my Kindle. And heavy. If I wasn’t afraid of cracking the screen I could clobber someone into his or her next lifetime.
Although my only criteria was size I should not have been surprised that its magnificent circumference hosted three hundred apps. I can now translate text messages into Spanish although I don’t know how to send them.
The Vienna Boys Choir can wake me up singing like trumpets and force me to complete a puzzle before they are silenced. I can track my Weight Watcher’s points, use Mapquest, take a selfie, check my email, and learn to crochet on You Tube. I can video, do calculations, and file memos. I have a calendar and both an analog and digital clock. I can edit slides and file my life on Life Square. I can listen to music and make movies.
But I cannot figure out how to answer my phone or check voicemail.
I have always been reluctant to get an iPhone or a smart phone as I didn’t want to be at the mercy family and friends. Instead I’m at the mercy of widgets. My acquaintances can dial on the hour but until I decode the mystery of correctly swiping the icons I may never hear their sweet voices again.
I may have successfully found a way to never lose my phone, but I may never find a way to use it either.
Carol has been a grateful member of SCN for four years. She is also a gardener grandmother, social worker, and Goddess centered woman who is delighted to learn and grow in the company of such splendid women.