Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Dialing In

Recently I got a new cell phone.

I'm not sure, but I think the reason they're called cell phones is because the people who market them know that it's only a matter of time before we all end up in a cell following a near-homicidal rant amidst trying to learn how to use them.

Take my new phone, which is a gift from my mom. Now, let me admit that I've become a spoiled brat, especially as of late. Mom wanted me to have a good, reliable, up-to-date phone, and for that I'm grateful.

Having said that, this new phone dwarfs, dimensionally, my old flip phone in the same way that a drive-in theater screen dwarfs an early seventies portable nine inch television. The photos I took on my flip phone were so small that I had to take Verizon's word that they actually existed. On the other hand, the old phone was simple and straightforward; calling a friend was as easy as opening the phone and pressing the buttons until "why are you calling me at such a late hour, Adcox?" came through the speaker. When finished, I only had to fold it and let it drop, nay fall, into my pocket.

In contrast, this Motorola Droid Turbo Bentley Mission To Mars Supreme is so involved that it requires something akin to a certificate from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology to learn how to access text messages. (Speaking of which, my favorite feature is the voice activation unit; speaking into the phone, I can now say "Hi, Mom. I love you and I hope you're having a wonderful day" while watching the screen interpret that message as "Hi Moom. I love the wonderful day you're having and Hi day moom".)

My mom has been incredibly patient with me as I skip the instructions, as befits we guys, and explore this very involved piece of electronic wizardry. By now she's quite accustomed to receiving phone calls from her son who imparts such communications as, "Hi Mom. Sorry to bother you -I was looking for Google on this thing and somehow ended up calling you. I thought Google had some kind of ring tone app to let me know that it was about to appear on the screen. Turns out it was actually calling you. I love you. 'Bye mom."

I mentioned pictures a moment ago. Being a car show kind of guy, I had approximately two-hundred show car pics transferred onto this phone, which was nice since the screen is so much larger than that of the flip phone. That's nice, because after having spent the better part of two years trying to remember why I had a photo of what appeared to be bright green fungus the pic was large enough for me to see that it was actually a beautifully restored '69 Camaro. At least I assume that it is, unless General Motors used photosynthesis to paint its cars back in the day.

In all seriousness, I love this phone. If I sound cranky about it, please forgive me. It's because new technology frightens me the way that the discovery of gravity frightened villagers who ended up burning scientists at the stake before realizing that such discoveries would only make life better. I love to explore things, which always leads me to getting stuck when it comes to anything involving computers. Even so, I won't give up until I've figured this thing out, MIT certificate and all. I'm learning my way around this phone, sliding my finger across the screen, issuing voice commands, and even making phone calls.

Be patient with me.

I'm dialing in.


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