Buying a New Phone is not for Sissies

So here’s the thing – for some time now it’s been clear that my current phone of about 4 years is lurching towards its cellular Valhalla. I have to clear the cache hourly, and there is a huge stutter involved in simply going from one function to another. It’s becoming ridiculous even for me and I will put up with a lot in order to avoid replacing my phone.  But recently, even an overnight charge fades away quickly so I know in my heart it’s time.

All this sounds a bit melodramatic, doesn’t it, and even a bit princess-like, (Oh-poor-me-must-I-really-have-to-bother-myself-getting-a-new-cell-phone!) but not only do I loathe the process and how it makes me feel (explanation of this to follow) I am also haunted by the environmental impact (which you can see here)

As a result, that whole procrastination thing is a snap!

Strangely, not being excited about replacing a phone is considered a somewhat quaint stance to take particularly amongst those much younger than myself. I’ve been told (usually in a special voice) that there are new colours of phone available, various things I could now measure with a newer, better phone (sleep, heart rate etc.) and several thousand apps to make banking and life in general, much easier.

But I remain unmoved and my pulse will not quicken when I think of owning a phone that is purple. Even a new and different metallic purple. And since I am neither broker nor financial wonk, there is rarely a desire or need for me to do my banking on a wee screen, whilst out walking the dog. Just saying.

The last time I went into an actual bricks and mortar store to discuss phone plans made me feel like Someone’s Mum in the worst way possible. One of my sons did go with me to be sure I wouldn’t get “ripped off” but apparently I became invisible as we approached the counter and the extremely good-looking staff immediately embarked on some high speed technology slang with my son that provided me with a pretty reasonable idea of how it feels to be an ancient, illiterate hag. Since I pride myself on NOT being an older person who shuns all-things-computer (“Yep, they’re great when they work, eh?”) this was mildly insulting and I waited patiently for a break in the conversation to share that I needed a very basic phone (gasp, without data!) as I would be using predominantly, for texting. (I still maintain a landline at home – yes, I know, I know – but I do have trust issues should I require airlifting during the night …)

There was silence. Glossy lips parting and then gradually fading to a puzzled duck-face. More silence. Had I lapsed into Swahili without knowing? Was this “no data” thing, a rude, preposterous faux pas? And all this, after hearing her brightly say “For sure, not a problem!” at regular intervals whilst speaking to my (also good looking) son.

“Soooo, we can’t offer you anything like that in store,” she finally intoned a bit icily, I thought. “You’d need to go online? Maybe they could help you out?”

We left the store, (and we may or may not have stopped at the liquor store on the way home) but I suspect that the staff’s chief concern was obtaining my son’s phone number.

A number of years have passed since that shaming Saturday. I am pleased to report that a savvier version of myself has since discovered refurbished phones and purchased a new-to-me phone during the Boxing Day sales. I also found a plan with everything I wanted BUT there was also a pilgrimage to the Bricks ‘n Mortar store involved because I was not confident enough to transfer photos etc. from the old phone to the new; however, this time I received excellent customer service and no one commented on the plan I’d selected to suit my budget.

Emoji THAT!

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