I am frightened of my phone.
I just switched from a BlackBerry Curve – an old one – to a brand spanking new, touch screen, app filled, slide out keyboard, way too fancy Samsung Epic, Duhhhhhrooooyyyyyyyyyd.
The telecommunication anxiety set in way back while I was deciding to upgrade my phone. I marked the calendar for the day our Sprint contract would be over so that I could be free of the binding clauses that kept me from the fabled, desirable, oh so slick iPhone. I enthusiastically started researching whether I would boldly move to AT&T or Verizon, comparing and contrasting, painstakingly tallying the difference in plans, service, features and reception.
It just seemed so ... hard. Switching carriers and devices began to feel like a life-changing decision, a long-term commitment on par with a mortgage, marriage and whether I should adopt another dog. I would be leaving our grandfathered plan that had two lines of unlimited communication for wayyyyy less than the promise of the fabled iPhones.
Countless *2 phone calls to supervisors, Google searches and heated debates later, I finally decided to play it safe, make life a little easier and stick with Sprint.
I went with the Samsung Epic, which I was told was "perfect for people who had a BlackBerry or really liked an actual keyboard." That would be me. The lure of the slide out keyboard tantalized my text-savvy digits and incited fantasies of word processing on my phone. I would be able to video chat, utilize the priorly unknown world of 4G and ... stop the Twitter feed ... I'd be able to Facebook seamlessly, from the palm of my hand.
I bravely and with great gusto arrived at my favorite cell phone depot – MC2 in the Fifth Ward to have Tony walk me through this huge moment in my life.
He took care of everything for me, from activating the phone, to transferring the contacts to patiently making sure I activated my 4,000 e-mail accounts correctly. He was quite impressed at my 1,500 contacts, which I have no idea how I accumulated.
As he handed the beast of technological cell phone power into my excited hands, my heart began to beat fast. I may have even broken a tiny sweat. I was transitioning into a full on phone induced panic attack.
I had no idea how to dial out, how to check my e-mail or Twitter text! How and when would I find time to learn the ins and outs, ups and downs and apps upon apps that this mini computer contained??
After all, I am a product of Commodore 64, of Atari and Sega. Computers and cell phones were something that happened to me in my late teens and twenties, not ingrained in my being like the young folk now.
I am resenting my phone and the fear it is manifesting inside me. I am even more alarmed at my attachment to all things e-mail, text and social network related.
I wasn't even a Facebook member until two weeks ago! Now, I'm losing my mind over whether or not I will actually be able to learn how to use this device that I watch other people swipe and finger to their high tech delight.
I've been counseled to stick it out. To give it a shot. To be patient during the learning curve. I cwn't eveeln send asmily fadcce withouthhh it loininkinng like thisssss.
So, please forgive me if I don't respond to your e-mails, texts, calls, Facebooks and Tweets in my usual, snappy, speedy fashion.
I'm having a cell life crisis.
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