Cell it to me

So recently, I was complaining about the high cost of cell phones.
“Way too expensive,” I said authoritatively. “And too many bells and whistles. Ridiculous.”
Shortly into my not-asked-for and ill-informed rant on the prohibitive cost of cell phones, someone asked how long I had been with my current carrier. Several years, I said. “You know you can upgrade your phone for free, right?” The tone in which he said this implied that I should have probably known this. Being careful not to tip my hand, I offered a “Harumph!” and went on my way.
So I went to the cell phone store to check out this whole” free phone” thing. I know that my wife and I both got free phones when we signed on. But we really were in need of new phones. For one thing, we got our phones around 1941. (They are actually corded and rotary.) Plus, they are the exact same model, so we invariably get each other’s phones. It’s not that anyone really exciting or secretive is calling. More than anything, it’s a pain to try and call her and have your phone bark at you that you can’t dial the phone’s own number.
So I went to the store and asked them if I was eligible for a free phone. Indeed, I was, and had been for a while. “OK,” I said, “where are the free phones?” The cellular industry, continuing their long-standing tradition of playing puppeteer with the American people, has made a crafty little hurdle for us to jump through. “Oh, the free phones aren’t here. You have to do that online.”
Fair enough, though, what with “free” being the key word here. I went online and found out that there were about a dozen phones in the free range. I decided I would take charge of the situation and pick my phone out. My wife could then pick her phone out of the remaining ones. Leadership. Taking charge. That’s me.
ME: OK, I picked out my phone. Time for you to pick yours.
HER: But what if I want the one you picked?
ME: Then...I’ll...uh...
HER: Pick a different one?
ME: I guess so.
HER: Good boy.
Fortunately, she picked a different phone. We both got the flip phones, which means that for the rest of my time with this phone, I will hang up by flipping the phone closed, and then open it back up to make completely sure that the phone is, in fact, off. I am sure that I am not alone in this paranoia.
When the phone arrived, I was very excited. After all, it’s a new toy, and toys are meant to be played with. So I went and plugged the phone into the wall and let it charge for a couple of minutes, just enough time to get enough battery juice so that I could find out the colors, sounds, etc. of the phone. I turned it on, expecting it to magically know that it was my phone. Apparently, I did not order the magic model. Using my boring old home phone, I called a friend of mine who knows way more about technology than I ever care to.
ME: Hey, my new phone isn’t working.
HIM: You turned it on?
ME: Uh, yeah.
HIM: NO!!! RULE NUMBER ONE IS NEVER TURN IT ON FIRST!!!
ME: Whatever. If that were the case, they would have told me that.
HIM: Go look in the box.
Now, it is my contention that if rule number one is NOT to play with your new toy, it should NOT be put on some piece of paper that is thrown in with the useless stuff in the box, such as packing materials and user manuals. If you want to stop someone from playing with a new toy, the entire box should be plastered with warnings: “WHATEVER YOU DO, DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT TURNING ON THIS PHONE, LEST YOU CRIPPLE ALL CELLULAR SATELLITES AND CRASH THEM INTO THE SPACE STATION!!!”
Eventually, I had to sheepishly go back to the store and hope they would have mercy on my poor, dumb, free online soul. I brought my son with me, hoping that a doe-eyed 3-year-old would keep them from saying out loud what they probably thought about me. Fortunately, they did have sympathy, and fiddled with it for a few minutes and made it work.
So we now have our new phones, and I have to say they are quite snappy. And they work, which is an added bonus I rarely achieve when it comes to matters of technology. And you can’t beat the price.