Cell phone wonder

Just to let you know, I am not a complete technological idiot. After all, I am typing this on my very own laptop. I can use more than one of the programs on it, too. I can save and retrieve files, send e-mail, install programs, and I know the difference between RAM and RGB.

I am not so literate with cell phones though. I have had one for a while which I have used when I have the need tocall other people. That doesn’t necessarily mean that they can call me, since I usually keep its battery in various near-death stages when I haven’t let it expire entirely. Of course it takes a lot of work to keep it alive. You already know how Bertha feels about batteries.

So for Christmas Father B. and I got new cell phones. They do a little more than just dial up friends and family. Father B. can take a fuzzy picture of his index finger with his, and I can record family arguments without even trying.

One upgrade we both have that we didn’t before is “text messaging.” It means that if we get into the right menu on our phones, we can send a little message that we type out on our keypad. If we do it right, the person we designate can read our little messages. If you are under the age of thirty, you can stop laughing anytime now.

I am supposed to be the one in charge of laughing here. So my first “text” was sent to Mr. B.’s phone. (He was sitting on the other end of the couch.) It said, “Hi gag.”

A few minutes later I get a reply that says, “Hi dufis. Who is gag?”

Okay, we are handicapped whether we have a cell phone in our hands or not. I can’t see very well, but those little letters beside the keys on my phone are about 4-point type in blue on gray. You realize, of course, that if I had been on the “3” key instead of the “4,” that I would have spelled “Hi dad.”

I can’t be expected to recite three letters for every number on the keypad every time I need a new letter, can I? Besides that, Mr. B. can’t spell.

Earlier I had tried to do something on that phone, and was told that I had to activate my Voice Mail. So I “press TALK to dial Voice Mailbox.” I get Voice Mailbox who seems to be female in gender. She tells me to enter my temporary password which I dimly remember was “9999.” So I key in “9-9-9-9.” Now what? Do I press the “#” key or “OK” after that? I tried both. She didn’t like either one.

“Please try again.” So I tried again, possibly pressing the keys in the same order, or possibly not, how would I know? Anyway my finger might have slipped off the “9” key and hit the “#” key prematurely, so I hit the “BACK” key four times and tried again, this time pressing the “OK” key.

Nothing happened, so I pressed the “#” key instead. I put the phone to my ear just in time to hear Miz Smarter Than Thou say to me, “You seem to be having a problem activating your Voice Mailbox. Please call our Help Hotline for information regarding your problem.” I detected a note of patronization (is that a word?) in her voice, too.

“Yes, and what is Help Hotline’s IQ?”

So the new phones are smaller than the old ones. I am not sure that smaller is better, Yes they fit into any pocket—not just one pocket. When I start to ring, I do the regular pat-down trying to locate the correct pocket. I come up with some change, a cough drop, a used tissue, a flash drive, a library card, and one glove, but no cell phone. After a couple more ring tones, other people are helping out. Miami Vice may as well be practicing on me.

Next thing I need to do with this technological wonder is input my circle of ten friends. I am working on that. So far I have thought of four.