Opinion: Trials and tribulations of a cellphone

Commentary by Dick Wolfsie

Hi. I’m Dick’s cellphone, and what a week I’ve had. At the Boat, Sport and Travel Show, I was in his jacket pocket, then he set me on a kayak. Then he shoved me under his coat on a chair and couldn’t find me, so he borrowed someone else’s phone to call me. I was totally charged up for this. Success!

In the car, I fell between the seats. He started looking for me while driving. This is more dangerous than texting, but he found me, his AARP ID, and an expired $100 Amazon gift card.

Monday morning, he took a shower and while he was drying off he put me in his bathrobe pocket. Once he hung up the robe, I was lost. I spent the entire night in the bathroom.

Tuesday, 8 a.m., he started looking for me. He was checking every dresser drawer, under the bed, even the freezer (where he once left a cellphone for three days). I was running low, but I called up every ounce of energy. I even tried to vibrate a little. No luck.

Wednesday, Dick found me in his robe when he showered again, but then he threw me in his briefcase and I landed in one of those dividers. Lost again. He called himself on his wife’s phone. I was on silent mode.

By Saturday, he’d given up so he decided to get a replacement. He got a deal on a sexy new model with a lot of bells and whistles. He fell for it. Men! The salesperson destroyed me digitally through the store’s computer. I was cellular non grata.

Heading home, he had a flash of insight. He pulled over, grabbed the briefcase, turned it upside-down and shook it, and out I fell. Without a charge for three days, I was spent.

Sunday: We headed back to the store. He told them he found his old friend and wanted to return the new phone. I was touched. My circuits welled up.

Yesterday, Dick stuck me in his sweat pants pocket while he was exercising. I’m now in the bottom of the laundry basket. Don’t expect to reach Dick any time soon. He only does the laundry once a week