Cell phones

After ten years or so of being with one wireless phone provider, we recently switched our cell phone service to a new provider and got new phones…and a new area code.  No more 603.  I have a sense of loss about that, from which I may never recover, but my Southern man is elated to have an Alabama area code, once again.
So, we ordered the same model cell phone for each of the four of us.  I tell you, it is SO much easier to text now that I have an actual keyboard!  Before, I had to use the number pad and you know how that is!  It takes forever to text one sentence and, if you accidently miss the letter, you have to start pressing the number key all over again.  Needless to say, I didn’t text much and was also made fun of by my kids and more youthful friends.  Now, however, I can text with the best of them…sort of.
The phones are great, but I have one concern.  I am a major klutz with a history of phone-dropping.  When we first started using cell phones, it didn’t take long for me to figure out that I needed a “rugged” phone.  So, for the last ten years, I had a phone that was the Samsonite of the cell phone world.  Read this old note from Facebook: 

“Why I have a cellphone that is Certified.”

Saturday, June 19, 2010 at 10:18pm

Today, we went to the meat market for some freshly ground beef and such. As I got out of the car, my phone went flying out of my hand and bounced on the ground (i.e., I dropped it, Julie-style). My husband just shook his head and laughed at me as I retrieved it. Up the stairs of the wooden farmers porch we go, with me asking him if he’s glad I still provide such fine entertainment after all these years. As we go into the store, whoops, I did it again, but much, MUCH better, this time!

My phone, in the process of me trying to put it and the keys into my purse, once again FLEW out of my hand. I saw the battery cover skid to a stop on the floor of the store. But where was the rest? Between the farmers porch and the store was a 2″ gap and about 18″ below, we could see my phone, peacefully awaiting rescue. Crawling under the porch was impossible, it was too low, and the phone was about 12 ft from the nearest edge. Now I was in a pickle. The cashier said they’ve had people drop keys, but my cell phone was a first. I guess it takes a lot more talent. No?

My glorious husband, after about 10 minutes of using a borrowed broom handle, fished out my phone, and handed it to me…sans battery. “Crap.” That was me. We located the cell battery with a flashlight, at least we THOUGHT it might be the battery. One 10′ long piece of electrical conduit, dirty towel, strange glances, and cut knee later, my even more glorious hero-husband, got my battery back for me. I blew most of the dust off my scratched up phone, put it back together and, against my husband’s recommendation, turned it on. It worked, as I knew it would. That is because I ONLY will have a cell phone that is certified to Military Standard 810F for dust, shock, vibration, temperature extremes, blowing rain, humidity, low pressure and solar radiation. It’s ’cause I’m such a klutz, I guess. Oh, well.”

Well, that phone, which served me so valiantly in spite of my chronic drop-siness, is now retired and will be sent off to a new purpose, possibly to Cell Phones for Soldiers or a women’s shelter.  I have ventured back into the “normal” cell phone realm in the hopes that I will be more fortunate and have stickier fingers.  So far, so good;  I’ve only dropped it once and that was on a vinyl floor–no harm done–whew!  Meanwhile, I’m shopping for the most cushiony phone protector out there.  Wish me luck!



About rebelwife

New England wife of a Southern man relocated back to Alabama.
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