My wife forgot her phone the other day. As she rummaged through her
large bag full of things, I asked, ‘Are you sure?’ ‘I’ll tell you in a minute,’
she said and returned to the rummaging. I hate that bag. I also own a mobile
phone. I’m staring at it now. I’m not sure of the model, although it has
Samsung written on it and I’m staring at a photo of my granddaughter. Cute: I
mean the phone, not my granddaughter.
No one phones me and I phone no one. It’s my ‘emergency phone’. It is to be used when I break down and when the nearest house won’t let me in to use their phone. But I drive a Japanese car and it never breaks down. For a phone I never use I’m astonished by how frequently it needs charging.
I went to a conference recently with my phone. Everything was fine until it came time to call the missus about the dainty looking chocolate on the pillow. This time I stared more intently. How does that nice Mr Dynamo do it? I hate that phone. Eventually, I decided I needed help- I did think of phoning my wife. I phoned my boss in the adjacent room using the room phone, of course. I told him that I needed his help on a technical matter. Being the boss, he came round after a suitably long interval. After explaining my problem he passed his hand over the phone (no, he’s not Dynamo) and it started to dial. Afterwards, he looked at me with a ‘look’. ‘Flaxen’ (not my real name), he said, ‘you’re really not very tightly wrapped, are you?’ Usually he says, ‘I’m a fish short of a lawnmower.’ At least he didn’t say, ‘I’ve no idea why I keep you on.’ I suspect it was the clean, crisp, alpine air of Queenstown that had fogged his brain and also on the fact that I’ve been working with him for eight years and he knows full well why he pays me. And I’m grateful for that, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to buy infernal devices that I can’t, and never, use. Makes you think how we managed without the little buggers (mobile phones that is) in times past, doesn’t it? By the way, if you are asking, I don’t work in IT.
No one phones me and I phone no one. It’s my ‘emergency phone’. It is to be used when I break down and when the nearest house won’t let me in to use their phone. But I drive a Japanese car and it never breaks down. For a phone I never use I’m astonished by how frequently it needs charging.
I went to a conference recently with my phone. Everything was fine until it came time to call the missus about the dainty looking chocolate on the pillow. This time I stared more intently. How does that nice Mr Dynamo do it? I hate that phone. Eventually, I decided I needed help- I did think of phoning my wife. I phoned my boss in the adjacent room using the room phone, of course. I told him that I needed his help on a technical matter. Being the boss, he came round after a suitably long interval. After explaining my problem he passed his hand over the phone (no, he’s not Dynamo) and it started to dial. Afterwards, he looked at me with a ‘look’. ‘Flaxen’ (not my real name), he said, ‘you’re really not very tightly wrapped, are you?’ Usually he says, ‘I’m a fish short of a lawnmower.’ At least he didn’t say, ‘I’ve no idea why I keep you on.’ I suspect it was the clean, crisp, alpine air of Queenstown that had fogged his brain and also on the fact that I’ve been working with him for eight years and he knows full well why he pays me. And I’m grateful for that, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to buy infernal devices that I can’t, and never, use. Makes you think how we managed without the little buggers (mobile phones that is) in times past, doesn’t it? By the way, if you are asking, I don’t work in IT.
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