Tuesday, March 17, 2009

My Phone is Old

I love to buy shoes. I also love to buy purses. I even like to buy clothes (although not as much as I did before I had kids and my figure totally changed). But I don't care at all about electronics. I laugh when I see long lines outside Best Buy or the snazzy Apple store on 5th Ave. DH pores over the articles in PC Magazine and the weekly ad circulars from J & R while I couldn't care less about the latest and greatest in technology.

As a result, my cell phone is old. I mean really old. My kids have been after me for years to replace it. I'm not sure I see the point. I have it for utilitarian reasons only. It is not a stylish accessory. I don't think it defines me. It most stays in my purse, until someone (usually DH or my older son) tries to reach me. I rarely make outbound calls unless I'm running late. And since I work from home and spend most of the day at my desk, I don't really need a fancy phone with lots of gadgets for emailing, calendaring and such.

When I first got my phone (a gift from DH), it was chic and sleek, and tiny for the time. Many years have passed since then, however. About a year ago, I was on a city bus with my older son and a bunch of his friends and those friends' fathers, riding home from a school event. To pass the time, the boys' borrowed the adults' cell phones to play games and such. As soon as I pulled my phone out of my purse, one dad launched into a story about seeing "Pretty Women" again recently and how funny it had been to see Julia Roberts' enormous cell phone in light of today's models. He hesitated halfway through the story, unsure of whether to proceed, as he realized that I might take offense to the insinuation that my old phone reminded him of Julia's clunker. But after a few seconds, he bravely plowed on (although he pointedly stopped looking in my direction).

I'm too old to be embarrassed by holding on to a phone that still works well and does everything I need it to, so I wasn't bothered by the Julia Roberts incident. But after seven or so years, I'm starting to find that my old phone doesn't hold a charge the way that it used to. And as texting has become a larger part of my life (mostly because of my older son's reluctance to call me when his friends might hear him talking to his mom - he prefers the anonymity of the keypad), my old phone has become increasingly uncooperative. It's latest trick is to hold a single text - the length doesn't seem to matter - and complain that it is out of memory if a second (or God forbid, a third!) comes in. So maybe its days are numbered. If so, my kids will have to find something else to tease me about.

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