Coffee With Purps

Coffee Conversations with a Purple Girl

Phone Misadventures

Unlike many people of my generation, I didn’t have a phone until my senior year of high school, late in the year, and he was ancient. A friend gave him to me because she got a new one and just had it lying around and I was like, “Okay, why not?” Little did I know the world I was entering into.

My first phone was named Methuselah, because he was so old. he didn’t last very long, not because he died, just because he didn’t work super well. After graduation my brother and I decided we needed better phones for college. He was already going to college and I was joining him and it would be easier to keep track of each other, since he was my ride, if we had phones that functioned. So we each got a tracfone flip phone and went with it. Mine was named Florence, for a joke my high school friends once made about my future husband being named Florence. Fun fact, when I told my second boyfriend that he gave me a pouty face, when I told my husband that (shortly after we started dating) his response was “Well I guess I’ll have to change my name.” This is why I love him.

Florence lasted me a good three years before he started to give out. He didn’t always go off anymore, though, and the alarm was hit or miss at best, which I kind of needed to get up and stuff. So my junior year I decided to upgrade to a phone with a full qwerty key board. This new phone was called Matthias, going back to the mice of Redwall theme I had started with my first phone. Matthias had a rather brief existence with me. He became my first, and only, phone victim.

Poor Matthias was caught in the events of the worst week ever. It was the week after Thanksgiving break, my boyfriend hadn’t called me when he got back like he said he would, I caught a cold, and my period started all in one day, to start off the week. I was sitting in my Twirl’s apartment with my friend Jess, who was her roommate at the time. Jess had made me some lemon tea which I was using alternately as a cold soother and a heating pad. Once cooled and half drank, the cup sat on the floor while I sat on the couch, telling Twirls all about the awful day I had and how it had resolved itself, when I made the mistake of shifting. My phone, which had been in my lap, slid in a perfect arch directly into my cup of tea. It was super impressive, actually, except that phones and lemon tea don’t mix. We dried him off, and turned him off, as you’re supposed to do and I went home and stuck him in a bag of rice, but nothing could save Matthias from the acidic damage of lemon tea. He might have worked fine, but his screen wouldn’t turn on, and that’s kind of important.

His replacement was Mattimeo and he lasted me the rest of my single life into my marriage. He lives on to this day in my mom’s pocket. I passed him on to her when my husband upgraded me to a smartphone for my birthday two years ago. My smartphone is called Martin, and he was very nearly my second phone victim yesterday when I went to the park with my in-laws.

I drop my phone  a lot. My husband winces every time I do, but I’m just not a very graceful person when it comes to phones. I drop him when I get out of the car because I forget he’s in my lap. I’ll occasionally throw him accidentally as I’m gesturing or trying to move something or do something while I’m holding him. This is why he has a case, because I can’t be trusted not to bang him up. Surprisingly, though, he only has one tiny crack in his screen on the upper right corner where you can’t even really see it. It’s mostly because I don’t think as much as I should. So when we went to the park and decided to wade in the creek, I didn’t even think about my phone hanging out in my sweater pocket. The pockets are huge and it’s never slipped out before, so I figured it was fine. I had worn sneakers for the day because it was warm, but I didn’t want to repaint my toenails, mostly because I can’t find the color I used initially. So I had to let my feet dry before I could put them back on. I was sitting on a rock by the creek when Molly looks down beside me and says “Is that a phone?”

It was a phone. My phone. My phone was sitting at the bottom of the creek. I pulled it out and dried it off as quickly as I could, peeling off the case and sticking my long skirt in all the holes I could fit it in to dry up as much water as I could. He seemed to be working fine when we pulled him out, but we turned him off so as not to risk it and set him in the sun for the rest of our park excursion. Once back at the house he went into the rice for the rest of the day and over night, just to be sure. This morning I picked out all the rice and turned him on. Much to my relief, he came out without a problem and seems to be completely fine! All of my stuff is still there, the SIM card is still functioning and all is well in the world of Martin the phone.

So those are my grand phone misadventures. I am honestly pretty surprised that I haven’t killed more of them. One out of five isn’t bad, really. I think the thing that saved my phone was the case, really. Sure most of the holes were uncovered, but the main seams were protected and the SIM card compartment was sealed in by it, which is probably where things would have gone super wrong had water gotten in there. I’m so thankful that Martin isn’t dead, even if it does mean I have to actually call the insurance people today. I hope your phones are fairing better than mine this week. Have a lovely day, my friends.

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