New phone . . . shriek!

Hi everyone,

Yesterday was the big day. I traded off my trusty old ThunderBolt for a Galaxy 6. For some of you such transactions may not be traumatic. They might even be fun. Good thing I remembered to load up on stupid pills before leaving the house.

They don’t speak English in phone places. It’s a cross between tech-speak and smart-a_ _ 20-something. It’s like people peering through opposite ends of a telescope. What I see down at the small end is someone with zits speakingsofasti’mafraidtoblinkmyeyes. From their end they see someone unbelievably old who keeps staring at them with a mixture of caveman ignorance and pure terror.

One studly young man laughed out loud at my old phone, informing me (and the general area within a block of where I was standing) that my phone was unimaginably old, that it must have been the rage back when dinosaurs roamed, that he was just learning to drive when the phone came out, and so on and on and on, to his delight. He was so funny he could hardly stand it. When I told him the store shouldn’t have sold it to me, he said he didn’t work there then. So much for snappy repartee. Lesson learned: never talk to anyone when they’re under 25 and you’re under the influence.

Being an astute planner, I had taken along a printout of passwords, knowing I’d be asked and knowing the stupid pills would be in full effect by then. Perfect. Not a one of the passwords I needed was current on the list I took. I’ve changed them all since I printed that one. Zip. Nadda. Duuuuuumb.

Two hours and thirty minutes later I walked out with my E$#&##&$^%f new phone, sent home to complete the transfer of files from the old to the new. I pouted most of the evening. I hate my new phone. I hate technology. I hate change. My life is ruined forever. I have half a notion to go back to the store and steal all the technicians’ lollipops. Better yet, I’ll egg the store with pterodactyl eggs. They were the rage back when I bought my ThunderBolt.

Advertisements

26 comments on “New phone . . . shriek!

    • Good morning, Penny. Believe it or not, I asked at the grocery store and they do NOT carry pterodactyl eggs!

  1. Reactionaries! Luddites! Fellow fogeys driving life’s twisting road, eyes on the rear view mirror! To those of you shooting down life’s rapids all the while grabbing at branches along the banks, casting wild glances upstream whence they came, I salute you!
    But I won’t f—ing call you.

    • Dear Cheryl, I called my old phone “Precious.” For my new phone, so far, I’ve been using a much less complimentary term. Time will tell if it will ever attain the desired endearment of “Precious II.”

  2. Technological change is often traumatic but those young whippersnappers could learn a thing or two about good salesmanship, compassion, respect for those of us who knew how to function in a society that used card catalogs and non-internet research!

    • Absolutely, Alicia. I told the young man I’d traded a stone pallet and chisel for the ThunderBolt. He said he didn’t doubt it. I can think of other responses that escaped him. But to be fair, we were both smiling.

  3. I feel for you. I’ve had my new Microsoft Lumia for a month now and I’m still trying to work it out. Do you remember the days when they used to give you an instruction book?

    • Hello, Dear Pat. You’ve been on my mind. I’ll send you a note. Let me know if you spot any pterodactyl eggs. I can’t find them locally.

  4. Yay for plastering pterodactyl (a word that’s probably beyond that whippersnapper) eggs! I had a dumb phone until last month, when I finally caved and got a smarty pants phone because I was traveling alone. I masted the map app, finally learned how to answer the stupid thing without hanging up on anyone and to send a text, set the alarm clock, and deposit a check in my bank account. I have no intention of learning how to do anything else on it!

    • Buffy, if you’ve mastered depositing a check, I’m in awe! So far I’ve texted, called, e-mailed, and taken a picture. That used up about all the foul language I know.

  5. Thanks everyone. I’ve been at the beck and call of you know who all day. I’ll do better tomorrow.

  6. Another comment…..several years ago my sweet daughter, Rachel, came to my classroom and was helping me with some computer issues I was having. I go the same type of response you received, David – that I was old and not able to figure out how to use this neat technology! Imagine my laughter when I sent her into the hallway to post some things on the bulletin board, and she came back upset because she couldn’t get the stapler to “open!” Two points for the “old lady” who had to show the techie kid how to use a stapler!!!!

    • Oh it’s so sweet! Hang onto your stapler, Susan, and I’ll do the same. One of these days I’m going to whip out my slide rule and take that into the phone store. On second thought, maybe not. I’ve taken enough abuse already.

  7. Appreciations! My hubby & I have met that “sales”person.
    Actually, a couple who attended the same “sales” class.
    It may be too late, but this outfit seems to have the most understanding sales staff for nongeeks -https://www.consumercellular.com/
    We hope to catch up to you.
    We fired our smartyphone on a Europe trip when it wouldn’t perform even for your college daughter, despite expert programming (obviously not by us) & haven’t re-hired it. But with so much wonderfulness available now thru the phone we have to belly up to the task. Summer seems the easiest time to go to class on it.
    Bravo!

    • Welcome, Jan, and thanks for the empathy! My son assures me that this is going to get better. I hope so because at present I can’t mention my new phone’s name in polite company.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s