One Ringy Dingy

My cell phone was almost dead. The battery wouldn't hold a charge. Hubby declared I needed a new one. I hate cell phones.

I told Hubby to cancel my contract and just get me a throwaway phone from Wally World. I only made about three calls last year on the damn thing and those could have been made on my land line. I get 700 minutes of local and long-distance calls a month. I use maybe 20 minutes a year.

Nope, Hubby said I needed a fancy new phone. Off to the phone store we go.

The cute, bubbly salesperson ran through all the choices and Hubby narrowed it down to two. He asked what Choice A had that Choice B didn't. She picked up Choice A and said, "This one has more junk in the trunk."

Neither Hubby nor I said a word. You could hear the crickets chirping in the ensuing silence. I'm sure he felt, as I did, about 170 years old at that moment. We had no idea what she meant but figured if we were 20-something that assessment would have made perfect sense.

Whatever "more junk in the trunk" meant, that's the phone I ended up with. Miz Bubbly got the new phone programmed and ran through all the features: Blue Tooth technology, Internet access, text messaging, camera, e-mail, different ring tone for each caller, how to get ring tones. (She had somewhere around 80 on her phone.)

After about ten minutes of this tutorial, I was in overwhelm mode. When she asked if I had any questions, I said, "This phone will just ring, right? And I can just talk on it?"

I suppose this was akin to asking the Maserati salesman, "This car will just go from Point A to Point B, right?"

Dang. I didn't want a fancy new phone. Hubby got a fancy new phone earlier this year. I can't figure out how to answer it or turn it off or on. When it rings it wheedles some noise that just ain't right. I want the phone to ring the same kinda ring my home phone rings so I recognize the fact that it is a phone ringing. I don't want it to play something that sounds like a robotic mating call. I have a variety of electronics chirping at me these days. I don't want another one. Did I mention I hate cell phones?

I don't need Blue Tooth technology, I need Blue Hair technology. I am a rotary dial kinda girl. Just call me Ernestine.