One day, while engaged in my highly-skilled labor as a potty cleaning engineering specialist, I leaned over and watched helplessly as my new cell phone slipped into the toilet. Having received those free Hepatitis shots, I was perfectly willing to simply retrieve it. The 5-second rule applies in the bathroom as well as anywhere else. Alas, my phone was offended by my mistreatment and refused to function ever again. Or, maybe it died of a broken heart.
Cell phones were considered cutting-edge back in those pioneer times. In reality, we were barely one technological step above two tin cans and a string. Not even tin cans. It was before tin. We used hollowed-out rocks.
They have come so far. No longer must politicians, rock stars, or anybody who wishes to behave like them, send compromising pictures of themselves through Pony Express mail. Never again will I have to carry my Buick-sized computer to the park if I wish to type my Political Science opinion term papers in the sunshine. We can perform these activities on a teeny-tiny TELEPHONE, for Pete's sake. I wouldn't recommend sending out that politically-charged essay, however. That kind of thing can go viral and destroy your reputation and career.
I loved my ancient cell phone. And yet I killed it. I have a sickening suspicion that I subconsciously did it on purpose, due to my underlying hatred of technology. I have to believe this is the case, because I continue to destroy any expensive electronic in my possession. The one upgrade the manufacturers have not managed is to make them capable of withstanding... Me.
I sent my latest phone through the laundry today. I think I know why.
Recently, I "dropped" my Kindle and broke the screen. I use quotation marks, because I think I felt my arm impulsively launch it in a fit of techno-hatred. Shortly thereafter, my Stone-Aged MP3 died. Miraculously, today the MP3 healed itself. And so, to offset this new development, I had to annihilate the phone. It was a sort of ritualistic sacrifice.
So, I purchased a new one. "Smartphones" are now the same price as "Phones of Lesser Intelligence," and in a moment of madness, I decided this was an adequate reason to pick one for myself. Unfortunately, by "Smart," the makers are apparently referring to the necessary attribute of the user. Initially, I could not turn on my phone. Now, that is ALL I can do with it, because in what I assume is an attempt to save battery life, it turns off its own screen every 30 seconds. This made it hard to use it to cancel service on my older, deader phone. But, it was not NEARLY as difficult as managing to do so once I figured out the phone and reached my old cell provider. They were more devastated by my abandonment than my actual phone was. I wondered if I should call some crisis intervention for the customer service representative, but by that time I had already forgotten how to dial on my keypad.
I realize these are all First World Problems. Really I do. I am grateful to even have a clothes washer in which to ruin my electronic devices.But, it is no coincidence that after nabbing this fabulous new toy, the first place I went was to the library, to check out "Jane Eyre." (I was hoping they would have me find it in a card catalog, but I guess are gone now, too.) Because, I do not want to read it on my phone. As truly thrilled as I am to have all these capabilities at my fingertips (because let's be honest, it is freaking AWESOME to have a library ON MY PHONE! ) occasionally I long for a simpler time. A time when (spoiler alert) all a girl had to worry about was that her melancholy-yet-strangely-charismatic boss, with whom she is secretly falling in love, turns out to still have a crazy wife locked up in the attic of his Gothic mansion.
Ah, the good old days...
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