So, Miss J and I are sitting at a nice little cocktail establishment the other night…oh, 9…10-ish…having a drink…and all around the bar, virtually everyone’s staring at their phones…texting…surfing…whatever.
Seriously? Do we all have such a chronic need to communicate that we can’t be without the phones for more than 12 seconds? Really?
Oops – hold on…text coming in…
I always seem to be firmly behind the technology curve.
In fact, until last fall, I was still walking around using a flip phone – but after a whole lotta thought, I finally ponied up for iPhones.
And I thought my old cell plan was pricey.
Even more annoying, whenever I sign on for a new plan, my carrier always seems to come up with new, labyrinthine permutations of minutes/data/texting ‘bundles’, or ‘packages’, that make the plan I just signed up for as antiquated as The Walton’s truck. It’s a constant game of catch-up.
To make matters worse, we’re trying to unload the ol’ land-line at Chalet Sandy. It’s really pretty easy…you just call the phone company and tell ‘em to shut it off.
Easier said than done.
Like so many of my generation, I’ve lived my whole life with a standard issue house phone. From the rotary dial variety (ha-ha…‘rotary dial’) to the ‘cordless’ boom in the 90’s (think Jerry Seinfeld walking around his apartment with a phone the size of a shoebox), the house phone feels ‘stable’…it feels ‘rooted’…or something like that. In other words, it’s always been there, trusted and reliable.
But I’m clearly fooling myself. We never use the house phone anymore. It sits there lonely and dejected as we sit and blabber away on our techy little iPhones, checking the internet, taking photos, sending texts, and in many ways, wasting a crap-load of time.
Yet, I’m holding out with the land-line – and financially, I can’t understand why. Emotionally, it’s another story, and I’m having a tough time bidding adieu to our old pal.
But, hey – gotta run – I have a text coming in and I need to upload a new app.