Can Anybody Hear Me?

The other day, my cell phone died.

No last words…no gasping final beep, grunt or anything.

I powered it on, it shut itself down.

I thought I’d hit the wrong button, so I powered it on again. It shut down again. It was then that I realized I may have a problem.

I can’t NOT have my cell. It’s practically a part of my body…between the texting and the voicemails and don’t even get me started on the music…and now I couldn't even get it to power up, or take a charge…or anything.

I was not a happy camper. Needless to say, repairing said phone had just made it to the top priority spot on my list of things still to be done. Finding a Verizon Wireless store to actually visit was more complicated than I’d hoped. I couldn’t find one in my new neck of the woods, so I schlepped back to the old territory...having remembered seeing a kiosk inside our local BJ’s.

Upon arrival, I was informed that I’d need to go to a bigger version of Verizon as I needed “texts”. I was then given directions to the nearest place that could meet my needs, which was approximately 15 minutes away. I’d already gotten lost once on my way to this place and I’d no idea how I was ever gonna make it back home, as I longed once again for a navigation system…or at minimum a flare gun.

And me with no cell.

Imagine.

I somehow found my way to the actual Verizon store and a gentleman signed me in, using a state-of-the-art hanging touch screen conveniently located just inside the front door.

That’s when the fun began.

I was directed to take a seat and a “tech” would be with me shortly. Evidently, my ears heard “texts”…but the first guy had actually said “techs”. As in technician. When I looked at the big teevee monitor over the technician area, I saw about a dozen names ahead of mine.

Uh-oh. That can’t possibly be good.

It took a good 25 minutes and finally I heard my name:

Tech Guy: “Kathryn?”

Me: “Here.” (Why do I suddenly feel like I’m back in elementary school? I’m noticing similarities…I’m bored, I’m falling asleep and I have to pee.)

TG: “Whassup?” (This said without him even looking up from his computer screen)

Me: “My cell’s not well” I blurt, instantly amused at my amazing ability to rhyme even during a most stressful time.

TG: “Huh. Hang on.” Tap, tap, tap…..tap, tap, tap….tapitty-tippity-tappity-tippity-tap…..and he’s frowning in concentration at his screen and I’m wishing my cell was working so I could hit the “timer” function and see how long it takes this guy till he actually makes eye contact.

After about 10 minutes (it may have actually been more like 10 seconds, but it felt longer), he finally looks up and says “Where is it?”

I reverently hand over my baby…and he turns it this way and that….and I’m thinking “Does he even know what the problem is? Did I even tell anyone what the problem was when I arrived? Wait. This guy’s got no name tag! Maybe he doesn’t even work here….!”

Then he says “What’s wrong with it? It’s not on, ya know.”

“REALLY?” I ask incredulously. “Well, maybe that’s why I’m not getting my calls,” I add…and I realize that sarcasm is lost on “NoName”.

“It won’t hold a charge. It’s dead,” I say…stating the obvious.

NoName hands me a strip of paper and says he’s taking it back to the OR, where a surgeon will perform an emergency celeophonographectomy and they’ll do what they can, but they’re not making any promises.

Really. I seriously believe that he said this, but I may have temporarily fallen asleep and dreamt it.

Then the real waiting began.

I watched people come…and I watched people go. At one point, I asked for a status...convinced that they’d completely forgotten about me. I was told it shouldn’t be too much longer.

Ten minutes later, I found a scrap of paper in my purse and scribbled a note to myself with the date and time. The note read “I’m in Cellular Hell.”

The end result was that my cell was un-saveable. They said they did everything they could. Lucky for me, I’d taken out the insurance that allowed me the gift of another one, but not before they ran into technical difficulties trying to transfer my old database to the new one.

However, they assured me all had been accomplished.

Two hours later I walked out with a brand new phone, no contacts and no freakin’ idea how I was gonna find my way home.

I may still be out there….somewhere.

Somebody get me that flare…