My New Single-cell Cell Phone
I have always had a mild loathing for people who walk around with high-tech gadgets, barking at the piehole. Particularly on a bus. I've fantasized about smacking said device clear off their head, if only to watch them quiver with surprise.
I am now proudly one of them.
My new cellphone. And proof that I'm a white guy.
My old cellphone shit the bed on Sunday and I found myself stranded, communicationless, unreachable, and totally helpless- within minutes. I loved that phone. The thing was barely two years old. And I only dropped it a few times. Of course, when I drop something, I lunge for it the way an overweight clown might, and end up flinging it 40 feet in the air.
Like a crack addict roaming around for another fix, I found myself scouring the West Side for T-Mobile dealers. I have no great love for T-Mobile, mind you, but I have to admit they've been decent. More importantly, Catherine Zeta-Jones is totally hot.
Two of the four T-Mobile dealers I visited were virtually 100% incompetent. In fact, if it's possible to be more than 100% incompetent, these folks fit that bill. They were drooling morons who, each in their own special way, demonstrated within seconds that they hated their jobs. The 3rd dealer I went to, to my surprise, was not only fully competent, but quite helpful. Unfortunately, his shitty phone selection looked like the toiletry aisle of a Russian supermarket. Christ, is everything in life a trade-off?
Just when I was thoroughly fed up and a mere nose-hair away from crawling back to Verizon, I found one last T-Mobile dealer. Fortunately for him, and for me, he was not only a great salesman - confident, knowledgeable, empathetic - but he had dozens and dozens of new cellphone models to choose from. Including the exact one I wanted. Finally, the best of both worlds.
I purchased arguably the smallest cellphone on the planet; the microscopic Panasonic that everyone seems to be fighting over. It's about the size of a Zippo lighter. I never realized how GIANT my fingers apparently are, but when I go to press a number, I end up pressing all the numbers around it too. I'll just use that NEEDLE it comes with to dial numbers. Anyway, within 3 minutes, the guy had my new cellphone working. And he was even able to dump the numbers from my old phone onto the new one.
So thank you, Mr. T-Mobile dealer! In my book, you are indeed authorized, just like all those signs say.
What have I learned here? That sometimes, you just have to learn to let go. It's the only way you can ever hope to become overly dependent on a whole new cellphone.
I am now proudly one of them.
My new cellphone. And proof that I'm a white guy.
My old cellphone shit the bed on Sunday and I found myself stranded, communicationless, unreachable, and totally helpless- within minutes. I loved that phone. The thing was barely two years old. And I only dropped it a few times. Of course, when I drop something, I lunge for it the way an overweight clown might, and end up flinging it 40 feet in the air.
Like a crack addict roaming around for another fix, I found myself scouring the West Side for T-Mobile dealers. I have no great love for T-Mobile, mind you, but I have to admit they've been decent. More importantly, Catherine Zeta-Jones is totally hot.
Two of the four T-Mobile dealers I visited were virtually 100% incompetent. In fact, if it's possible to be more than 100% incompetent, these folks fit that bill. They were drooling morons who, each in their own special way, demonstrated within seconds that they hated their jobs. The 3rd dealer I went to, to my surprise, was not only fully competent, but quite helpful. Unfortunately, his shitty phone selection looked like the toiletry aisle of a Russian supermarket. Christ, is everything in life a trade-off?
Just when I was thoroughly fed up and a mere nose-hair away from crawling back to Verizon, I found one last T-Mobile dealer. Fortunately for him, and for me, he was not only a great salesman - confident, knowledgeable, empathetic - but he had dozens and dozens of new cellphone models to choose from. Including the exact one I wanted. Finally, the best of both worlds.
I purchased arguably the smallest cellphone on the planet; the microscopic Panasonic that everyone seems to be fighting over. It's about the size of a Zippo lighter. I never realized how GIANT my fingers apparently are, but when I go to press a number, I end up pressing all the numbers around it too. I'll just use that NEEDLE it comes with to dial numbers. Anyway, within 3 minutes, the guy had my new cellphone working. And he was even able to dump the numbers from my old phone onto the new one.
So thank you, Mr. T-Mobile dealer! In my book, you are indeed authorized, just like all those signs say.
What have I learned here? That sometimes, you just have to learn to let go. It's the only way you can ever hope to become overly dependent on a whole new cellphone.
posted by Mark Feigenson at 7:03 PM
2 Comments:
finally an update!
Very funny stuff. I like the image of you dropping a cell phone, then "flinging it 40ft away" when you try to grab it.
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