I don’t have a cellphone. Calm down! Don’t take up a collection! I don’t want one. I’m near a phone nine or ten hours a day. My feeling is if you can’t reach me in that amount of time you don’t really need me.
“But what if there’s an emergency, Chris?” I’ve heard many times.
What kind of emergency would you need me for?
“Chris! My appendix burst. Make fun of my pain, stat!”
I’ve come to the conclusion that those who would need to contact me in case of an emergency, girlfriend and kid, are with me most of the time and, if they’re not, they know who I’m with so can call them.
To me that’s full coverage.
That said, I’ve spent quite a bit of time programming cellphones for others. Don’t ask me why. Maybe they feel my tiny hands are perfect for such delicate procedures. Whatever the reason, I can usually figure my way around a phone.
Which can come in handy. For me more than others most of the time.
I was with a very large, hard, intimidating friend. He’s not one you’d try to pull any crap on. There’s just something about him that signals caution.
But I’ve never been good at reading signals.
While we’re talking his cellphone goes off and it’s just a horrendous sound. Something akin to blending a Chevy in a Multi-Mixer.
“Damn, I didn’t expect you to be a techno fan.” I stated. He grumbled something about trying to change the ring tone, getting stuck with that one and not being able to change it.
Then we moved on to other subjects.
Until he excused himself leaving his cellphone behind.
So I thought I’d do him a solid. You know, give him a more pleasing tone to mark an incoming call.
Let me explain a little about myself. I have all great and good intentions when I start out on any endeavor. But then there’s that irksome part.
Most people have an angel and devil on their shoulders. And, I guess, I have that. But mine’s more a boy scout and court jester.
I pick up his phone, good citizen merit badge straight ahead. I scan down the seemingly limitless choices, many fitting others not, and, just before I’m about to make a fitting choice I hear the jester shake his bauble in my ear.
I made my choice, placed the phone down and, when he came back we bid each other adieu. I chuckled knowing the next time his phone rang this bear of a man, someone I witnessed crush a phone when he wasn’t happy with the conversation, was going to be serenaded by the haunting lyrics to “I Enjoy Being A Girl.”