I walked into my local Verizon store, and told the first sales representative I saw that I was ready to buy a smart phone.
Yes folks, it true. I've been holding onto what I once thought was a smart phone for years now. Except, I guess my old phone was long ago demoted to "Multimedia" phone.
Of course, not really knowing what I needed, and motivated by jealousy, since the oldest person in the office where I work finally got a smart phone of his own leaving me the only person still clinging hopelessly to the twentieth century, I allowed the salesperson to talk me into the latest high-tech gadget - the Motorola Droid Razr Maxx!
It's really more of a computer than a phone. I'm still contemplating bringing it back and getting something ... simpler. To make matters worse, I couldn't figure out how to get the contacts from my old phone into the dad blasted thing. Then, my daughter came to the house and, in what seemed a flurry of finger swipes and taps, pulled pictures off the Internet and had my first contact all nestled into my contact screen.
"See dad, It's really not that bad," She said. And then added, "I'll trade you my phone for this one if you can't handle it."
I can handle it just fine!
Well, it's been three hours since she worked her magic and I've managed to put two more contact names into the list. Yay, only one hundred-seventy more to go!
Can't I just learn a new language or something? I never realized I'd have to learn to think all over again to operate a phone. I don't know. I'm thinking Swahili, or Mystico.
Damn, it sucks getting old!