Smart Phone

   “We didn’t buy anything from Tracphone, did we?  I just got an email from MasterCard asking if we authorized a purchase.”

      Pause.  “Yes, I bought you a phone for Christmas.  Merry Christmas.”  It was December 15.  I did my shopping early.  I was proud of myself.  Then, this.

     The phone arrived a few days later.  The Goodwife declined to get her present early, so I dutifully hid it in my sock drawer until December 24, when I got around to wrapping it.  It was dutifully unwrapped on December 25. 

     It sat around on the counter for a week.  On a cold day in January, I made up my mind we had to attack the usual frustrations that attend learning how to activate and use a computer.  The first instruction allowed us to procrastinate further:  charge the device.

      Some hours later when the phone was fully charged, we chose to go online rather than spend an hour in a holding pattern on the phone waiting for customer service.  We navigated the shoals of apps and ads, many of which we probably did not need.  We signed away another chunk of our privacy to Google. 

     Lock the screen?  A high degree of safety, the instructions said.  But then, every time the phone shut itself down due to inactivity, while we tried to figure out the “prompts”, we had to put in a pin to start it up again.  What a pain. 

      The Goodwife had reached her tolerance level.  It took awhile, but eventually, I found “settings” and chose to go with no security and have things open up when you start up the phone.

       Eventually, I got to the order to dial a phone number.  I dialed the Goodwife’s old number.  Nothing happened.  Back to the instructions.  If the call doesn’t go through, hang up, wait a few minutes, and try again.  I did.  It worked.

       I took her phone and gave her the smart phone.  I dialed the new number from her old phone.  The smart phone rang.  And rang.  And rang.  How do you answer the dang thing?

      I took the smart phone.  She dialed the new number from her old phone.  I couldn’t figure out how to answer it.  Back to the instructions.  Nothing.

      Fortunately, there are other inept people out there.  A google search on the old laptop found an inquiry from another bumbler, how do you answer the phone when it rings, and an answer.  Swipe the phone icon toward the center of the screen.

      I dialed the new number on my old flip phone.  When the smart phone rang, I found the old-fashioned receiver rocking back and forth on the screen.  I put my grubby finger on it and swiped toward the center of the screen.  It worked!  I was having a conversation with myself on two phones.

     It’s not the first time I have had a conversation with myself.  But in the olden days, it wasn’t necessary to rely on Verizon or T-Mobile in order to give myself a good talking to.

      Once again I handed the smart phone to the Goodwife.  I dialed the number.  It rang.  She swiped the screen.  We were connected.  We had a long distance conversation over the island counter.  We said goodbye and hung up.  That was enough for one day.

      The smart phone now spent a few days idling around in the Goodwife’s purse.  She still has the old flip phone that everybody calls.  We will have to figure out how to transfer her old number to the new phone before she will be forced to rely on and really learn how to use the new phone.

       It was a Thursday night, the night we were to join the book club and discuss The Girls of the Atomic Club.  The meeting was at the Verboten Brewery.  I was pretty sure I knew the way, but as we left the driveway, I persuaded the Goodwife to dig out her new phone and open it up.

     Hit the “Apps” button.  Hit “Google”.  Hit maps.  I dictated as I drove.  The voice-activated feature isn’t set up yet, apparently.  Is there a keyboard?  Yes.    Type in Verboten.  Before she could get it all done, “brewery” appeared.  OK.

      About two blocks from our destination, “Bitchin’ Betty” was instructing me where to turn.  Yea!  One small step for the electronically retarded.  Many miles to go, however.

     Rome wasn’t built in a day.  Neither was Cleopatra, according to The Three Stooges. 

      We can now answer the phone and use its GPS feature.  One of these days, we will work on some other app, like maybe the camera function or something. 

      Maybe now the Goodwife can avoid the embarrassment of pulling out an old flip phone in front of her friends.  I don’t embarrass that easily.