So, there I was this morning. Going through my typical routine. I reach over for my reliable blackberry, a device that I have an unfortunate addiction to, and start clicking around. I had just gotten a text from BK telling me that Pavin was going to pick Tiger Woods for the Ryder Cup if he didn’t make the team. Interesting piece of information. My first instinct is to confirm. I click on the internet browser on my magical smartphone and wait. Page doesn’t load. The anger builds a little bit, and I look at the display for a moment and realize that I have no internet coverage. I grit my teeth. I turn the phone off, and then turn it back on. This is the extent of my technical savvy with any device. If it cannot fix itself, I cannot fix it. The phone comes back on, still no internet. I get a little more restless, and decide to take out the battery. This has worked before, could be wildly bad for the phone, I don’t really know. I turn her back on one final time and see…some type of error code. I used the Office Space joke in the caption, because I’ve already forgotten what the actual message was, and it doesn’t really matter, does it?
So, now I’m playing out doomsday scenarios in my head. I’m going to have to buy a new phone. I won’t get the sale price. 376 people will ask me if I have my information backed up. I think we all know the answer to that question. I’m getting myself ready for an entire morning worth of annoyance that is going to include a trip to a Verizon retailer, aka the DMV of the communication industry. I decide to google my problem. I type the error into Google and it comes up for me, which I take as a good sign. At least I haven’t invented a new Blackberry error. The results are far more troubling. As it turns out, there is a site called Crackberry where people with far more serious addictions to their phone gather and have open forums. The solution to my problem is a) don’t choose the reset option (hahah, too late on that one, Crackberry) and b) download some nonsense off the disk they give you when you buy your phone.
Yeah, well that disk is currently taking up some prime landfill space. What’s plan-B? According to the forum, it’s time for a new phone. Taking the phone to a retailer wasn’t even mentioned as an option, not that I’m surprised. I swallow hard, and head out for Verizon. At least they are all over the place. I can say that. I’m fully prepared to buy a new phone. I’ve spent the money in my head. That’s 8 cases of Sierra… gone. Upwards of 15 pizzas down the drain. Over 50 orders of bottomless tostadas at Chilis….goodbye. It was pretty depressing. My favorite part about the Verizon store is signing in. No matter what. People are working, no one is in there, but you gotta sign in! Ok, mullets. They make me wait a few minutes, during which time I do nothing but look at the prices of new phones. Finally I get called over.
The guy asks my problem, and I tell him, “My blackberry is….” I edit myself. I say something cordial and hand it over as if it were a grenade. He looks at the error message and offers a nod. He’s seen this before. I get ready to reach into my pocket for my debit card. Be gentile is what I plan to say. He tells me it’s usually a software problem and disappears. I allow myself a glimmer of hope. I take a seat, and then it’s Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-ti-tick-tick….I observe some other people in the store. An old lady comes in and says she wants a “Verizon Cell Phone.” Well, you’re in the right place, darlin’! Some guy gets furious that he was passed over in line before he realizes he was stone wrong and goes back to his phone call. I sit silently. The guy returns with the good news/bad news scenario.
My phone will work again. Of course all my contact information and everything else is long gone. Poof. Kaiser Soze. There’s nothing I want to be less in my life than the person who shoots out the “lost my phone” email. I don’t want to be that person or the person who has their blackberry synced with their computer. Unfortunately for these to co-exist you must never have the blackberry die on you. Luck ran out this morning. In the end, I will continue to be the person who doesn’t back up their information. I promise no mass emails from me. A personal one perhaps, in the case of an emergency, or if I have an especially funny text that I need to send. Otherwise, I’ll just wait for people to come to me. That’s how I roll. I figure it’s a way to clean out the old contact list. Trim the fat.
In the end, the nightmare wasn’t so bad. I even wanted to be a little more upset with Verizon, but I didn’t have to spend a dime and they threw in a brand new track ball. Talk about a consolation prize….