I try to keep my inner-crotchety hidden. (I probably should try harder…) Lately, I’ve had some episodes with cell phones that get the grump jump-started.
Coming out of the grocery store the other evening, I encountered two persons walking toward the entrance, both with cell phones at their ears. I imagined they were talking to each other, for a giggle.
There are so many conversations going on at once. People who – back in the day – would have had to pull over at a pay phone, or just hold their words like the child in the backseat whimpering “but I gotta go now!”
Actually, the grocery store is one of the places where a cell phone conversation is most appropriate. It replaces the grocery list, which was usually forgotten on the kitchen table anyway. “I’m on the cereal aisle now. Do we need more Coco Puffs?”
The industry is simply pervasive. Ads on television, bus stops, store fronts. There is no escaping the omnipresent cell in today’s society. I yearn for simpler times.
Then again…
I received a call on the cell a minute ago that I didn’t recognize. I didn’t answer, since I’m one of those still paying by the minute. Don’t know ya? Sorry. You’re not getting through. I Googled the number and it belongs to a medical collection agency, and the website has page after page of people complaining about the calls, asking for unknown persons at all hours of the day and night.
Medical bills, I don’t have. Car payments? Nada. Credit cards are paid up or paid off. I pay cash for most things, and the last medical financial transaction was an emergency room exam for an injured knee – $400, discounted for paying cash.
With the trusty cell phone, I just store the agency phone number, switch the option to “No Ringer,” and VOILA! Not another peep from them. Oh, they’ll show up on missed calls if they ever call back, but that’s why the Almighty invented the “Delete All” button.