Wednesday, September 1, 2010

My Phone is Trying to get me Fired, or Worse, DEAD!

I got my phone about a year ago.  Since then it has been a decent phone.  Not spectacular, mind you, but, it’s been ok.  It plays MP3s, it takes pictures, video, it texts, and it makes phone calls.  That last part is a vital function for a phone to perform. 

It may be the text function that I use most.  It is great for when I am mowing, which I sometimes do for the school.  I don’t have to stop the mower to text, but to take a phone call, I do.  I like being able to text when a coworker is droning on and on about what the government has done wrong, though he never has a solution. 

I text my lovely wife while she is at work.  Sometimes, those texts involve language reserved for her only.  This is where my phone has been trying to get me fired.  Sometimes, on rare occasions, I text things to my wife that i would not text to others.

My phone brings up the last text that was made.  I usually don’t have a problem with this, since it is useful.  However, I have had times where this handy little function has been a problem. 

Cora and I decided to see a movie.  At one point a coworker texted me to ask a question.  I answered his question and drove around town.  (I was off work.)  I then texted the wife about which movie i would like to see.  I also said, “I love you.”

As it turns out, I accidentally texted this to the coworker.  He was confused, but seemed to enjoy the disadvantage he held me at, especially since he let me send him several texts before alerting me to my mistake.  I countered with quick thinking, and basically asked him why he did not think that me telling him “I love you” was appropriate between coworkers.  He knew it was a mistake and had a good laugh over it.

Fast forward one month.  I had been very careful about checking to make sure who was getting what message.  I had no problems.  So, daily, I communicate with my idiots about what they are supposed to do and where they are and what they are doing.  I often flip from one texter to another.  Then I sent a text to the wife, perhaps suggesting a little more “ALONE” time together.  I am glad I wasn’t descriptive or more than slightly suggestive, since, once again, my phone made sure I was texting a coworker.  I tried to dig myself out of it, suggesting that he was my favorite coworker and that it was a form of respect,…it was useless.  He knew he had me!  Fortunately, we have a good relationship and great rapport and I have a reputation of being the funny guy. 

The other day I mowed the lawn.  I was texting Cora again.  I was about to grab a lawn chair while texting. 

Let me digress for a moment.  The dog.  That is, our lovely jack russell terror, has an irritating tendency of storing his snacks.  Usually they are snacks he is not particularly fond of, but he is loath to let the other dog have it in his stead, even though he is disinterested.  I suspect it is the principle of the thing.  He usually stores these non-snacks in holes that he digs in MY LAWN!  I try to fill them in, but apparently missed one.  I took a step into this hole and rolled my ankle.  As I plummeted toward the ground I coherently text Cora:  gfxcd.  in the middle of the sentence I was writing. 

I crawled over to the phone, for I had dropped it in mid-fall after typing my brilliantly descriptive “gfxcd” in favor of catching myself without dying.  I typed, “I juts rolled my ankle and fell down.”  I pushed send and the phone told me it was OFF and would send the text the next time it was ON. I cursed at it and attempted to turn it ON.  Then I texted Cora to tell her I was OK, but planning to sit down to recuperate.  I pushed send.  It was still OFF.  In a fit of rage I threw the phone at a nearby wall.  A button was broken out, but it snapped back in.  After several more tries I was finally able to turn it ON and send my messages. 

Now, outwardly, this episode does not seem life threatening you say.  You are right, but WHAT IF!?  What if I had snapped a bone out of my leg and was bleeding out fast?  Then when I dialed 911 with my waning energy the phone would have told me that it was not ON and would send my phone call the next time it was on.  My fading vision would have registered that my phone was trying to kill me. 

I am sorely tempted to recycle this stupid phone of mine.