By all means, let me cut to the chase. This is my new phone case:
It would suggest a target demographic to which I do not belong and likely have not been a member of for the past 40 years. It is lively in its cheap, plasticky design, and, importantly, it fits my seemingly archaic phone, which now clocks in at slightly over one year old. This—by industry standards—is prehistoric.
When I sought help loading my contacts and pics onto the new phone, the Sprint store associate could hardly mask his scorn when I asked about a new case. He took one look and held the phone up to the light, transfixed by its apparent ancientness. He shook his head and with thinly veiled snarkiness assured me they hadn’t had a case for this phone in the store for the past 6 months because that’s when they had CLEARANCED them out. In fact, he was pretty sure they hadn’t sold that phone IN ALMOST A YEAR.
So this little number just arrived from Amazon where I paid a whopping $1.26 after enlisting my teenage daughter to help me locate one for my newly replaced phone which I purchased—with insurance, mind you—for $100.00. Trust me, I am a far more savvy consumer than I appear.
But I was talking to my sister about our parents on my cell while grocery shopping, which means I attempted to cradle the phone in my neck while examining a pack of stupefyingly-out-of-season-strawberries. Said attempt resulted in what my kids would deem an “epic fail” when the phone sailed from my shoulder squeeze and went airborne, soaring in a perfect arc toward the case of organic vegetables where it turned and spiraled downward, landing at my feet in a thunderous splat. When I turned it over, I could still hear my sister talking, blah blah blah, but immediately noted the black screen of death behind the spider web of shattered glass.
“Not here, not now, I don’t have time for this,” I sputtered into the phone. I knew all too well from a mere 2 months prior what the cost, both financial and convenience-wise, was going to be. Because my teenage daughter had accidentally/carelessly? let her cellphone slip from her fingers and launch from an even greater height: the loft hallway where it wafted onto a carpeted family room floor but only after its glass face nicked the wood cabinet on which sits a flat screen TV, which was mercifully spared in the phone’s unceremonious descent.
Honestly, each event lasted nanoseconds and could easily have been a featured problem in a high school physics textbook: if a dense object launches from a height of x and flies through the air to crash land at point y, what is the projected trajectory of flight?
And let this be a lesson to you, adults: you actually need 2 hands to grocery shop!!! Get off the damn phone. Words once spewed at me by impatient siblings years ago when I had nightly talkathons with my best friend Kate despite spending every waking moment with her all day every day at high school, I now utter as a mantra whenever I enter Hen House or Target. This is not, after all, some harvest gold receiver with a 10-foot coil that will snake across the kitchen floor at high velocity and snap into a wall when dropped.
But this is:
Yes, a thoughtful and useful Christmas gift from my sister, which my daughter found hilarious. She gave one in black to our older brother who planned to use it on his 12-hour drive back to Michigan. We estimated that if he got pulled over in states where talking on the phone is illegal, the ticket would probably cost $5.00 instead of $500.00.
From what we heard, he chatted up old college buddies and long-lost friends for hours to keep himself awake during the onerous drive, incurring nary a wince from passing motorists and no retro tickets.
Stay tuned for the next post, in which I blurt my philosophy of technology to my teenage daughter whose attention, surprisingly, was less than rapt.
Do tell, what was your most heart-breaking, phone-break mishap requiring replacement and just how dearly did you have to pay for it?