I discovered how old we’ve become when we walked into a cell phone store in a mall the other day…
My wife’s brand spanking new in 2012, I-Phone 5 is falling apart at the seams - literally. My I-Phone 5 of the same vintage is in pristine condition due to the fact that I have made a total of 4 calls in the past 10 years with it, and otherwise it remains at home 99.99% of the time. I do however find it makes an excellent mini cutting board for slicing mushrooms when needed.
My wife loves her phone and does not want to replace it as it does everything she needs including texting with the grandkids and my Mom, plus endless hours of playing word games.
So, the great minds in the Smith home came up with a brilliant plan based upon our extensive knowledge of modern communication devices. If we removed the SIM card out of my phone and swap it with her’s, she could have a phone that didn't want to separate like Texas or Quebec, and I could go back to ignoring my new coming-apart-at-the-seams phone as it sits in the off position all day. A win - win, right?
Nope, all swapping of the SIM cards did was to “somehow”, let’s see, what’s technical terminology for this? Oh yes, “bugger up” both phones.
So off we trot to find a retail store for FIDO, our cell phone provider, at the biggest mall in the area. Hmmm, it is supposed to be beside Winners, but no, not today. So like Lewis and Clark looking for the Northwest passage, we trekked through the mall desperately trying to avoid as many mall rats as possible. We were now clearly strangers in a strange land.
Finally we found the FIDO store and a nice young lady who appeared to be about 12 years old, but was actually 23 offered to help us with a sympathetic look on her face much like one might see on someone who just discovered a soaking wet lost puppy.
As much as she tried to help with our wounded I-Phone, she couldn't do anything about the falling apart bits, but do not despair, there is an authorized Apple store in the mall. She sent us off by saying if they can’t fix the phone, come back and I'll see if I can unbugger-up the phone. (My words, not hers)
The directions were, just go down this hallway, turn right, turn left, then turn right and you can't miss it. I have learned that whenever someone says, “you can't miss it” there is a better than 100% chance you're going to miss it and we did.
Finally, we saw the familiar Apple logo in the distance attracting everyone within eye shot like a ray of light from the sermon mount. The ghost of Steve Jobs beckons all to come in and worship his technology marvels, and spend more money than could ever be imagined.
When we entered the church of Apple, we were greeted with what they call an Apple genius dressed in all black like Tom Cruise preparing to hack Dr. Evil’s super computer and save the world. As we hand over our antique phones to him, which I’m sure were released when he was still sucking his thumb, he starts with a look of either disgust, or quizzical wondering, as he began inspecting all the little various ports on the side of the phone trying to figure out where the coal is supposed to go.
He then says, yes, he can have the phone repaired but it will cost much more than they are worth. Then he says if we want to transfer all the programs from one phone to the other that will cost an additional $80.
We slowly back out of the Apple store, not making any sudden moves and retraced our steps back to the FIDO store by following the trail of breadcrumbs we had laid down.
Our young lady, true to her word, was eventually able to get the phones working as we wanted, and at zero cost. Zero cost is very good!
Oh, and by the way, she also explained the procedure to transfer the information from one I-Phone to another, only requires placing the two phones side by side and keying in a magic, super-secret pinky swear code. For that, he wanted to charge us $80!
I guess he thought he had found a couple of country bumpkins who wandered into the Apple geriatric slaughterhouse straight off the farm. Admittedly, we’re not quite up to date with this century's technology (or the last century’s technology for that matter), but we're not ready for the digital boneyard just yet either!
Leaving the mall, I said to my wife, “you get behind the steering wheel while I turn the hand crank to start up the ol’ Model T for the ride home dear.”
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Copyright 2024 Kenneth Lane Smith
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