One small step for most. One giant leap for others. That would be me.
The time had come. Others, particularly my wife, would say it was past time.
It has always been interesting, especially the past few years, to see reactions whenever I pulled out my flip phone. Some chuckled, some envied, but I like to think the majority were both amused and at least somewhat envious.
“I wish I’d never gotten this thing,” was heard more than once as they pulled out their often-bulky modern contraption that is more computer than phone.
There was an article in a national publication I clipped out: “Flip the phone script; Members of Gen Z are snapping up ‘dumb’ flip phones.” It was about how flip phones were making a comeback because of the addictiveness of smart phones and the loss of privacy by their mere presence. There is no doubt they are listening. That was a year ago already; I don’t think that trend actually developed, but then dumb-phone people might be just keeping them hidden.
On a trip last year during an airport layover, one of our traveling companions told me that while I had been texting someone, a young boy nearby tugged his father’s arm and pointed at me. They both chuckled, he said. I can just hear the kid saying “Look Dad, a dinosaur.”
I didn’t hear them, but I am sure the gals in the N-B office were at least smirking whenever I was texting someone there: Beep-beep-beep. Bop-bop. Boop-boop. Beep. Bipp-bipp. My wife once asked me to put my phone on “silent” mode whenever I would text around her.
And that’s one of the main reasons I have finally acquiesced. People want to communicate via text more and more, including me. Not only is that problematic on a flip phone but mine was getting evermore eccentric and problematic as it aged. Just like me, I guess. It probably didn’t help any that I had dropped it a couple times, once cracking the hinge that opened it, the second time the front screen became non-functional. I could no longer tell who was calling without flipping it open which automatically answered the call, whether or not I wanted to talk to them.
That happened at least six months ago. I was still stubbornly hanging on. I didn’t like to carry around the small flip phone, let alone a larger hip attachment. (So I got the smallest one still available.) I didn’t want to be tied to this gadget like I see so many people — waiting in line or at an office or eating their meals at a restaurant whether or not they’re alone — and am determined not to do that. I didn’t want to have Siri or Alexus listening in on my conversations and then sending me ads or notifications about that. (She is turned off. I think.)
Ordering it and setting it up did not do a lot to ease those qualms. We have been customers of Consumer Cellular. Their customer service reps are people you can understand and their training obviously is focused on dealing with older people and our struggles with technology. The young man who took my order about two weeks ago was almost condescending. The nice lady who helped me set it up last Saturday was a godsend. I had hoped to be able to transfer my “Contacts” from the flip phone to the new iPhone. She said we could try but it would likely not work well. So we linked it to our laptop MacBook at home and finished up.
After completing the process and saying farewell, I did the re-start and began poking around, and then I dove into entering my “Contacts” manually while watching some college basketball. The phone had downloaded a long list of contacts from somewhere but they were terribly outdated and only had email addresses. For example, one was for my younger brother’s email at a church he hasn’t been at for about 25 years. It also had the Photo Gallery from my iPad. How’d that get there?
I accidentally called our oldest son, somehow without his phone number being in that contact list yet, and then accidentally terminated the call as we were talking. I clicked on the FaceTime App and it immediately connected me with our youngest son, with whose family we frequently FaceTime on my iPad. How’d that happen? Is this thing reading my mind?
Just as I was breaking a sweat, realizing that my worst fear of dealing with a device smarter than me was coming true, this new gadget in my hand rang. (The default ringtone was some sort of phoo-phoo noise. My wife insisted I change it. I eventually figured out how to do that. But I digress.) A friend was calling. Although his contact had been in my flip phone it only showed a phone number. I took that as a good sign. Not sure why.
I was able to answer it. I didn’t hang up on him, and I successfully terminated the call without cutting him off or blowing this thing up. Maybe there is hope, I thought.
Our son welcomed me to the 21st century and added, “welcome to a world where you’re tied to your phone.” I told him that was perhaps the main reason I had not made the switch and my intent was to remain as non-dependent as possible. “Good luck,” he said. And chuckled. Not encouraging.
After sharing with the friend that he was honored to be my first phone call on it (he had recently dubbed my old phone as “Flipper,” giving me an additional emotional attachment to it), he recommended I call one of the grandkids to come help me set it up. They will be here next Saturday. I am working on a list of questions. It gets longer every day.
No small step for me.
miller@news-banner.com
