By Annette Dashofy
I thought I’d surrendered my hatred of cell phones. I thought I’d come to accept that the blasted things are everywhere.
I was wrong.
Monday, I stood at the gas pump filling up…a situation that doesn’t do much for my mood anyway…when a young girl wheeled up to the pump next to mine, hopped out, and began gassing up her vehicle. All the while, she kept her cell phone pinned to her ear with her shoulder.
Note to all cell phone addicts: cell phones should not be used when pumping gas. Electrical sparks (which can be created by cell phones) combined with gasoline fumes equals BOOM.
I was tempted to remind this girl of that apparently little-known fact. Look, sweetie, if you want to blow yourself into the next state, fine. But don’t do it with me standing next to you.
While I was debating whether or not this gal might be crazy enough to pull out a gun and shoot me for not minding my own business, another car pulled up to the pump in front of mine. You guessed it. The driver proceeded to fill her car with her phone stuck to her ear.
I was surrounded! Rather than point out the error of their ways, I chose to get the heck outta there. Since I haven’t heard any news reports of explosions at the Robinson Get Go, I assume all survived.
Why must we constantly be “in touch” with everyone else? What is so important that you have to discuss it while driving? Shopping? Pumping gas? Walking on the bike trails?
Using the bathroom?! Yep. They’re everywhere.
With gas prices (and cell phone sparks threatening to blow me up at the pumps), I’m tempted to break out my bicycle and use it to get around. The problem isn’t so much the tractor trailers that cruise our road doing 60 MPH in spite of the 45 MPH speed limit. It’s the drivers who are too busy text messaging to watch where they’re going. Just waiting to cross the road to get my mail has become an adventure. I’ve jumped back to avoid being clipped by the passenger-side rearview mirror zipping past only to notice the driver scowling at his phone.
Watch the damn road!
Lately, I’m even fed up with my own phone. Yes, I have one. It’s for emergencies. And for my 88 year old mom to reach me if she needs me. But lately it’s been ringing a lot. No, I haven’t suddenly become popular. The bulk of my incoming calls are wrong numbers. One guy called me last night claiming my number had come up repeatedly in his caller ID and he wanted to know who I was and what I wanted. I assured him that I had not called him and hung up. So he called back. I told him it was still the wrong number. I guess he got the hint. If the phone had rung a third time, I would have let it go to voice mail.
I admit, wrong numbers can sometimes be entertaining. I had one guy call my voice mail repeatedly over a couple of days begging me in tears to come back to him.
I do identify myself in my greeting message. Apparently, it didn’t matter to him that I was not DeeDee Baby. He still left his messages for her on my voice mail. “Please come back to Poppy, DeeDee Baby!” And, no, I am not changing the names to protect the terminally stupid.
Okay, my rant is over. I feel better now. Anyone want to share? What’s your favorite annoying cell phone moment? Have you received any interesting wrong numbers? I think there’s some story material here.