So I have a love/hate relationship with my cell phone: I love it and it hates me. I love the simplicity that at any moment I can say, “Huh, I think I’ll call my best friend in California” and I can! I might be at the mall or at Starbucks or in the car or at the bank: wherever. I can just punch in her phone number and the Gods of Satellites will make sure that I talk to her.
This love I feel for my wonderful cell phone, however, is clearly not reciprocated.
My phone, like some new guy you just started dating, has many many secrets and hidden talents that it prefers not to share with me. Somehow, my friends all seem to know what my cell phone can do. They’ll cavalierly say, “Just text me when you get there!” and I’ll reply, “Oh, no, my phone doesn’t do that,” to which they’ll say, “Sure it does. You have the exact same phone I have.”
Text. I don’t know how to do that. And since when has “text” become a verb? I thought text was what you read, hence the term “textbook”.
My little phone also has a playful side. I will dig it out of my purse to place a quick call and I'll accidentally brush against some Random Important Button and voila! suddenly I'm quite surprised to see a smiley photo of my mom and sister (wearing life vests, natch) standing on the deck of a cruise ship. While I slaved away at the high-end kitchen store, apparently my family members went on some Mexico cruise without me. I can only think of one thing: my phone is a camera?
Since when is my phone a camera?
Last week, my cell phone made a strange little beeping I have never heard before. It wasn’t the tone it makes when there is a new message (miraculously, I do know how to check my messages), and it wasn’t the sound it makes when the battery is dying (I know that sound too well). It was sort of a happy little chime. I opened up the cover of my phone and stared at it, willing it to stop the chiming. Now it was blinking simply, “NEW TEXT”. I wasn’t sure what to do. I closed my eyes and prayed while I pressed something on the phone. The next thing I knew, there was a message from my freighbor saying, “Will drop off Tall about 20 min late, so sorry—traffic.”
Wow! I know how to read a text!
My stomach sank when I read the rest: “Text me back to let me know you got message.”
Yikes. I did the only thing I could: I got out the digital camera my dad gave me three Christmases ago to see if it can send texts.