It didn't take long for the summer drama to arrive. Last week, my cell phone decided to go on strike. Like a temperamental woman throwing her latest tantrum (not that I know anything about that), my phone locked up the touch screen and totally blocked me from making calls, receiving and sending texts and accessing my voicemail. I tried turning it on and off repeatedly, charging it in different outlets around the house, and finally got to the point where I was banging it on the counter in the kitchen to show it I am the one in charge around here. Alas, nothing worked and the phone continued to mock me as more and more text messages set off the notification ring that is reminiscent of the old AOL "you've got mail".
Reluctantly I surfed the Internet looking at new phones, trying hard to avoid anything with smart phone in the description. It didn't take me long to realize that doesn't leave many options. After that first click of the mouse, I hit the 5 stages of grief in rapid succession.
First came the denial that my phone was unfixable. That was very hard for me to accept. I kept punching the touch screen with methodical precision, hoping that I could find the one spot that would repond.I felt like I was losing a life line with each useless tap on the screen. And did you know that isolation is often included with the denial stage? How fitting, seeing how I couldn't call or text anyone in my contacts. Yeah, I'd say isolation was well covered
Stage 2: Anger.
Did I mention whacking it against the kitchen counter? Repeatedly? Surely a few more whacks on the counter would make it come to it senses, right? Made sense at the time. After all, I had to make the phone realize that I owned it, not the other way around. I am the one in charge around here and it needed to show some respect and realize how serious I was about keeping it.
I also considered nuking it in the microwave, running it over with the Expedition, and shoving it down the garbage disposal. Only things that stopped me there is that the microwave is relatively new and I didn't want to replace it, the tires on the Expedition are only a week and a half old and I so do not want to be without my garbage disposal in house with 4 kids.
Stage 3: Bargaining.
It's quite difficult to bargain with a hunk of plastic and computer chips, but by goodness I did my best. I offered it new ringtones, a new cover..... anything to just start working again. Shopping for a new cell phone ranks right up on the "Things I hate to Do list" with laundry, shopping for a new car, and telling the Girl Scout mafia that I can not buy anymore cookies due to my lack of self control and restraint. I was willing to do anything to avoid that form of torture. Needless to say, the phone held it's stubborn ground and I was out of luck.
Stage 4: Depression.
Yep, had it covered. As of April, I was out of my contract with my cell phone provider. For two glorious months, I was the one in charge. At anytime I could cancel my service without fear of fees and repercussion. I was giddy with the fact that if I wanted to tell them where to stick their coverage area, I could! With one glitch I was suddenly back at the mercy of the cell phone companies. Now I am starting to think that all current phones come with a secret chip that activates after the contract period runs it's course to make the phone self destruct. Did I happen to mention that Wayne just got a new cell phone too? Sure enough, about a month before my phone imploded. Same situation, same results. Helloooooo new two year contracts!
Stage 5: Acceptance
After two days of no cell phone, I finally just accepted the fact that unless I wanted to become a cell phone hermit I was going to have to break down and pick a new phone. The kids were more than helpful with suggestions, pleads for their own smartphones, and loosely veiled comments about their technology ignorant mom. *note to self: I still owe them for that*
I ended up crossing over to the Dark Side (as a dear friend so graciously stated on FB) with the choice of a shiny new iPhone. However, I can justify my choice, and that does help me sleep better at night. I am tired of having to share my iPod touch with the kids..... always finding it in one of their grubby little hands when I want to listen to music to drown out their latest arguments, pleas for something, or denials of guilt. With an iPhone, it is a win-win. I get my own iPod and a cell phone all wrapped in one, and now they can fight over my itouch like they fight over so many other things in the house without my interference. Hey, I have to find a silver lining, no matter how dim, to make myself feel better about selling out and locking myself into another 2 year contract.
And to top off the cell phone drama, my Dad sent me this Baby Blues this morning.Fitting that this was in the Sunday paper following last week. Enjoy while I once again try to figure out where that darn live feed camera to the cartoonist is hidden:
