Yesterday I was on my cell phone almost all afternoon. I have this new gig at work which makes me a troubleshooter, so I was taking calls a lot.
I have a checkered career when it comes to phones. I had a job after my university days which required that I take around 90 phone calls from little old ladies about their insurance. I learned quickly that grandma wasn’t necessarily that sweet little biddy we all imagine she is.
I should have known the phone would be a problem in my life. In the fog of my childhood memories is an incident involving a ringing telephone.
If my recollections serves me correctly, it involved a call one day at our house. The phone was ringing, and like a good little boy I went to answer it.
In the background, I recall my mother yelling, ‘Don’t answer it!”. Well, I picked up the receiver anyway. I guess I had your typical preadolescent brain -thick as a brick.
It turned out to be a call from a local radio station involving a contest. If they called your house and you answered with their call letters, you won a mega-shopping spree at a grocery store. (I believe it was worth a thousand dollars.)
Well, yours truly picked up the phone and did what any little tyke would do. I said, “Hello”.
There was weeping and gnashing of teeth at my house. My mother had been listening to this particular station and knew what was coming.
It’s a famous story in family lore. I should have known that me and phones wouldn’t mix.