It all started when I reached into my pocket for a mask. Dan and I were going into a store. As I pulled out the mask, my cell phone hit pavement with a loud, crack! The screen shattered, and in the upper right hand corner, there now was a rainbow made up of many thin vertical lines. There were other lines, too, and the brightness of the screen varied. Later, the rainbow stripes looked blotchy, looking as if it had bled black in that area. It wasn’t a pretty site.
Even so, I tried using my phone. It worked a little bit, like maybe two percent of the time. The rest of the time, the phone seemed to be possessed by the devil. I would try to do something, anything, and it would flash all kinds of screens in a frantic frenzy. At one point, all on its own, it searched Google for “xx;iuas;ejnr;owueajd.” Can you believe it found a million hits? (joke there, ha ha) If I don’t laugh, I will cry. That phone cost $400, and I just got it two months ago.
Why I kept it on and carried it with me while we finished our errands only speaks to the high degree us humanoids have become addicted to these little rectangular devices. I had hopes. Maybe a text would get through. Maybe I’d hear a “like” on my WordPress post. Maybe I would get a Facebook notification of something that doesn’t really matter anyway. “Maybe” didn’t happen. Yet, I still continued to keep the phone with me.
Once we got home from our errands, we found a cell phone repair shop – i.e. a cell phone hospital. The shop didn’t have emergency room hours, so we had to wait until the next morning when it opened. It was already late afternoon. The rest of the day passed quickly, and before long it was bedtime. I put my phone on the night stand next to where I sleep as I usually do. However, even with all its demonic shenanigans, my phone wasn’t tired. I had to lay it face down; yet, it still glowed. Apparently, it didn’t want to be ignored.
The new day dawned, and with it, the hope of return to normal life. Right after breakfast, Dan and I were off to the cell phone store. The GPS on his phone took us right there. Once inside, we joined a line of several others who were just like me. They were in the club. The club of people who had dropped their cell phones. It’s a very exclusive club, you know; you have to pay a lot of money to join. However, even though there was a line, the man and woman who worked there, got to us before very long at all.
The man said I needed a new screen. When we expressed doubt that a new screen would fully exorcise the demons from my phone, the man explained in technical detail, something about the three parts of a screen, and why a new screen would work the miracle. Dan and I nodded in agreement, not really knowing what the heck he was talking about, but, hey, he seemed nice.
He told us to call him tomorrow if we hadn’t heard from him by noon. Of course, we would be making that call with Dan’s phone. As we left the shop, the man said, “Enjoy your quiet day.” How’s he know my day is going to be quiet, I thought. Oh yea, no cell phone.
I did make it through the rest of the day, though not without withdrawal symptoms. Dan would ask me what time it was. I couldn’t look at my phone; I had to find, you know, a microwave. Or a clock. When the house got colder, I couldn’t use my Nest app. I had to actually stand up, turn around and adjust that round thing on the wall. I couldn’t echo my mom; I had to call her and talk to her without a visual. I couldn’t ask Google how to spell a word when writing a post or one of my insightful comments. When we were away from our house, I kept absentmindedly touching my pocket which is what I do to make sure I still have my phone and haven’t left it somewhere by accident. I looked like I was tapping to the beat of some music.
And the weirdest of all, when Dan asked if I wanted to take a walk, I debated if I really wanted to go. After all, my Pacer app would not be counting my steps. No person or thing would know about my steps – except my body. What good was that? My brain overruled my heart, and I took the walk – even though that step count is lost forever.
I do have to say as the day went on, my withdrawal symptoms lessened, and I did begin to feel calmer. However, the new found peace was not so great that it kept me from picking up my repaired cell phone the next day. As soon as I could.
Is there a lesson in all this? Maybe it’s this. Remember how I mentioned I had just bought my phone two months ago? Well, because I listen to Clark Howard, I knew that some credit cards provide damage protection for purchases for some length of time after the purchase. I checked, and my Citibank card does provide that protection for 120 days. Good thing I dropped my phone when I did!
I’ve already filed a claim. I followed through right away and sent the required copies of the original receipt, the cost of the repair and the photos of the damage. I don’t count my money until it’s in the bank, but all signs point to GO on this one. I’ll update the post once I know the result; I am supposed to learn the status of my claim in two weeks.
There may be other lessons as well. Like, put my mask in a different pocket than my cell phone. Maybe get away from my phone once in a while. But whatever. We are all human. I’m not gonna worry about it too much, maybe just try to be a bit more careful. Do you have any cell phone horror stories? Send me a text or email. Ha ha, just kidding. You can put your stories in the comments below. I get that on my phone, too.
Update: Good news! We have been notified that our claim was approved. We will be reimbursed the cost of the repair.