In the Pink

I've never understood people's thing with cell phones. I don't care what kind of cell phone I have. I don't care if it is a flip phone or a brick. I don't care if it can take pictures or access the Internet. I just have a cell phone for emergencies, in case I break down on the interstate or need to call home when I'm late.

I've never had any patience with people who have to stay on the cell phone all the time just because they have one. They talk in the car while driving, in the grocery store while shopping, at work while supposedly working, in restaurants, airports, and everywhere else where phones are not strictly forbidden.

I have a flip phone, not because I especially want it, but because it was a leftover that my honey no longer wanted after he got his ultra-thin, deluxe model that can do everything but tap dance and play the fiddle.

Then it happened. My old phone died. I thought it was the probably the battery, but regardless, I needed a phone. It just isn't safe to be out these days without one of some sort. I figured that I would go to the phone store and get it fixed.

My honey, bless his little heart, volunteered to drop by the phone store for me since he was out and about and going in that direction anyhow. I should have known better, but I figured he could get it fixed just as well as I could. The technicians are the same, as they would be if I went. What could go wrong?

Later he called me at work. "It isn't the battery," he said. "It's the phone. So, I got you a new phone. You are going to like it."

"I am going to like it?"

I was worried. With his addiction to gadgets, no telling what sort of phone I would end up with. But what did it matter as long as it worked? Probably he got another one like his? I was NOT going to like it. I knew already that I didn't like gadgets.

When I got home from work, there was a cell phone box on the table. I was afraid to look, but curiosity got the best of me and I opened it.

It is pink. A tiny PINK phone! A HOT PINK phone! All my I-don't-care values went out the window and I instantly become a cell phone addict. I love it! It's CUTE!

It is tiny, thin, and hardly weighs anything at all. Plus, it takes pictures and has all the other bells and whistles that they can load down a cell phone with.

I carry my new phone everywhere and try to think of excuses to use it so other people can see me. I look at other people's ordinary phones and wonder why they don't upgrade to a newer model.

But, wouldn't you just know it?  I found out that my old phone can be fixed after all. I can give up my new phone and go back to the old one.

I don't think so! Who wants to use an ordinary phone after having a snazzy, hot pink model?

Call me a cell phone phony. I'm just as bad as the rest of them, showing off my status symbol as frequently as possible, looking for reasons to use it and hoping everyone will notice how cute my pink phone is.

Now, if you will excuse me, I've just remembered something and I have a call to make.

Copyright 2006 Sheila Moss