Unforeseen Service Charges
When cell phones were first introduced in New York, Peter decided it was a good thing to have. He would not need a beeper, which he called his electronic leash, for his business any more. He would not have to find a public telephone to make his business calls, if he was away from his office. For him the cell phone it was a great boon. Eventually he exchanged his old cell phone for a newer model. That is when he decided to present me with his old one.
One day he came home and said, “Stella, a got a new cell phone. I think you would like this one.” At which point he gave me his old phone.
Anyone who knows me, knows that I am a complete dunce when it comes to technology. I recall one day when I was a realtor at Merrill Lynch, they decided it would be easier to computerize the multiple listings system. Before that we used to have to drive to the multiple listings office each day to pick up the latest listings. Now all one had to do is sit at the computer and search for specific listings and the computer would spew out information on demand. Everyone loved this convenience. It was like magic. They vied for their turn on the computer. Everyone was excited about this. Everyone, that is, except for me. To me, the computer was the bane of my life. I was terrified of it. To me, it was as complicated as trying to figure the mysteries of hieroglyphics.
Years passed. I was home now being a housewife. That was when Peter walked in on that afternoon and offered me his cellphone. “Stella, I’ve got a surprise for you. Now you have your own cell phone. Look?” he said with a pleased smile upon his face, as he handed it to me.
I took it because it was a love offering, but I couldn’t comprehend why I would not need it. I hugged him in thanks and nestled it into the drawer of my desk and promptly forgot all about it. I get a lot of gifts. Some of which I use, some I put away carefully, because the person who gifted to me is cherished. This one fell in the latter category.
Soon after, I began receiving mail from a telephone company I had no association with. I shook my head in bewilderment. “They must be junk mail,” I thought and tossed the bills away. Then I noticed these bills were arriving on a regular basis. Curious, I finally opened the latest one. I was accused for some late payments. Late payments? What late payments. Curious, I called the number on the bill and asked for an explanation.
“You haven’t paid the service charges on your cell phone,” the voice at the other end said.
“My cell phone? What cell phone?” I asked. Then I remembered. The voice at the other end was talking about the phone that Peter had given me months ago. The one I had safely tucked away in my desk drawer. “But I didn’t use it!” I exclaimed.
There was a laden pause at the other end of the line. I could almost hear the voice thinking, “Why me? What had I ever done to deserve this?”
Then the voice said, “Lady! We provided the service. It was your choice whether to use it or not!” in a very supercilious voice. I paid but I also asked for a cancellation of the service. Relieved that I was not arguing the point, the voice at the other end offered me a substantial discount, which I gratefully accepted.
It was quite a few years before I once more I became an owner of another cell phone. Once more it was at Peter’s insistence. By now they were becoming quite common. I am still not in the habit of carrying mine around my person. It could be almost anywhere. I usually have to call it to find it. One place you will not find it, however, is inside my desk drawer. My friends and family forever scold me for not answering it, at which point I say, “Call the house line.” Perhaps you are wondering whyI have a cell phone. Very simple. The younger generation refuse to chat on a regular phone. They love to text. Because of them, I am proud say, I am now a great texter!