The I-No-Own-Phone, The Final Part

 

By Jody Worsham

All rights reserved for Back to the Future

Over the past seven days, I have enjoyed my I-phone.  I was becoming well versed in calling, answering, texting, AND I added maps and weather.  This might be a good thing after all.  Out of my mouth to the techno-gremlins ears.

Yes, my I-phone became an I- no-own-phone.  Well, not exactly a no-phone; more like a no Wi-Fi  phone which, since it was also the hot spot for my I-pad, meant no e-mail and  connection to the lost world of adults.  I headed back to the AT&T store post haste.

Alex met me at the door.  With I-phone in hand, he poked, clicked, tapped, and angled to no avail.

 “You got any Wi-Fi on your phone?” he finally asked the salesperson next to him.

 “No, tower is down.”

 “The tower is down”, he relayed to me as if my hearing was also technically challenged.

“When will it be up?” I asked, as if he knew.

“Maybe Friday.”

I left and headed to McDonald’s for a much needed mocha frappe and Wi-Fi.  I spent Saturday at Whataburger for food and more Wi-Fi.  Sunday I parked next to the library for free Wi-Fi as I assumed the tower was still down since my I-phone wasn’t working.

Monday I was back at the AT&T store and caught Alex just as he was ducking behind the counter. The tower was up, had been for three days.  For the next three hours I stood, drank water, stood, drank water, stood and watched as everybody in the store tapped, clicked, poked, wired-up, switched out I-phones, tried an I-phone4s with no resulting Wi-Fi for me.   Finally Alex announced:

“I don’t know why it won’t work.”

I could have said that the minute I walked in.  The only thing they could do was RE.   RE-fund what I had paid, RE-connect my hot spot, RE-connect that to my I-pad, RE-set my pass word, and show me a selection of phones that would ring, vibrate, send and receive texts.  I chose one just like the one I got for the eleven-year-old.

It seems the 21^st century has ganged up on me.  The brain is willing, but the Techno-gremlins have declared otherwise. 

So here I sit with my lap-top waiting for the dial-up to catch up with my writing.  I will finish this piece for my blog.  Wait and eat lunch.  Google my blog.  Wait and do a load of laundry.  Copy and attach this piece.  Wait and go pick up the kids from school.  Insert this piece in the blog.  Wait. Prepare supper.  Hit send.  

After supper, dishes, homework, baths, I will crank up my hotspot, connect my I-pad, and e-mail friends that I have a new post.  After a full day of dial-up and waiting, I hope Alex’s Grandmother gives him a good talking to.

1-800-Sue-the-Hog

By Jody Worsham

All rights reserved for accurate Weather app

Do your spring tomatoes now look like wilted stalks of celery?

Does your winter wardrobe have hangar burns from going in and out of the storage closet several times a week?

Do your children march off to school clad in shorts, sandals, t-shirts, wool gloves, and parkas?

Does your calendar say Spring but the thermometer says Winter?

Is your electric meter spinning out of control with both the air conditioner and the electric heater running on the same day and often at the same time?

Have you suffered emotional stress trying to decide whether it is time to uncover the swimming pool or enroll your children in ice hockey?

Did your yearly “Spring Garage Sale” include your long-johns on the “everything’s a dollar table,” leaving you stranded and shivering the next day?

The Groundhog proclaimed to the world, and Facebook, that we would have an early spring.  Millions of closets were then stripped of winter shoes and clothing that would be outgrown by the next winter and donated to local thrift stores, only to be re-purchased  by the original donors the next day.  The entire Southland whose definition of winter is a couple of days below freezing, has been tricked into  forsaking Snicker bars, Mocha Frappes, cheesecake, and dusting off “Sweating to the Oldies” prematurely in anticipation of an early Spring and the new swim suite line.  Where there should be tan lines, too many are suffering from frost lines.     

If you or a loved one or two or three have suffered from this misrepresentation of spring’s arrival perpetrated and instigated by an incompetent groundhog, then join this class action suit against the dumb Groudhog.

Call 1-800-Sue-the-Hog. A member of the law offices of Mason, Dixon, and Southern will handle your claim.  Southerners will be given preferential treatment, as it was a Yankee hog causing the problem.