OMG, it was a nightmare, a special 21st century nightmare. "Oh no, this can't be happening. Not to me! I don't deserve it. I gave at the office....well I would have given at the office if I went to an office. I gave at church, whoops, I'm Jewish. I'm a good person. Or am I? I love puppies. I promise to go to temple for the High Holidays. (When are they?) The next telemarketer who calls me I'll invite over for a nice glass of Sauvignon Blanc instead of hanging up. I'll do anything but please little cell phone don't be dead. WAKE UP!!" I screamed shaking the tiny silver object in my sweaty hand. I was panicked and my face started to itch.
I always take my cell phone out runing with me. Why? In case I have a heart attack of course. Truthfully, I'm looking for any excuse to stop and wait longingly for the phone to ring so I can walk, talk and end the torture. Ok, ok, I know that isn't the point but I do not feel the need to run every single step. Whew, that was purging. It was very hot and ridiculously humid that fateful day. I ran with the cell phone in my sweating hand waiting desperately for it to ring. Ah ha, a mile up the lakefront call #1 . "Hey Patrick".....blah blah blah. A ten minute chit chat with the phone held up to my sweaty ear. I wiped off the phone three times during the call. It was another 2 miles before my second "time-out." "Hi Adria, what's up?" I continued to wipe the phone off knowing perfectly well water damage is THE KISS OF DEATH for my dandy little device. Admitedly there was call three and four.
A mile from home I decided to call Sandy. I flipped open the phone and the screen was blank. I think my heart stopped. Oh God the heart attack was coming and the phone didn't work! I frantically pressed every button, wiped it dry on my sweaty t-shirt, shook it, stared at it, thought about throwing it on the ground and jumping on it....even in my addled state I knew that would be counterproductive and stopped myself. "Work!" I pleaded. I"ve kept you from large bodies of water, I don't deserve this." I stood frozen in panic on the corner of Columbus Drive and Madison. I had a mile to go and a dead phone clutched in my hand. Life was almost not worth living...except I had a really fab party to go to that night and was going to wear my cute little black strapless dress and Kate Spade red high heels. I reconsidered.
Sadly, I spent the rest of the afternoon cell phone shopping. It took three stores and four hours before I held a new shiney blue device in my hand. Unfortunately, "Can you hear me now?" took on a whole new meaning. No one could hear me. I'm on my third phone. I've kept the old one hoping it will miraculously come back from the dead. Maybe if I give at the office...or about those High Holidays?
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I'm sorry Gail Maria but when you piss off the Phone God there is no going back. You have to go through the entire penitent ritual.
First, no one can hear you. Next phone you can't hear them. Next one - yup constant dropped calls. It goes on and on bad batteries, pictures blurred, buttons don't work.
It stops when you are writhing on the side walk with people standing round staring and tisk tisking in pity.
Finally, there comes a sudden calm. They open your cell door, give you back your belt and other things and let you out.
Another of the 8 million stories of people who have mistreated their cell phones and pissed off the Phone God. dumm de dum dum
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