I have a new cell phone and not the foggiest notion what to do with it.
The instruction book is 56 pages long – and that’s all in English, not in multiple-language translations. That’s better than my last cell phone. The book enclosed with it had almost 300 pages. I used the phone for three years and never did finish reading the book. No plot – no well developed characters – no action-packed scenes. The only suspense was wondering if the battery was charged.
As you can tell, my life is becoming simplified – only one-sixth the number of pages as before!
A friend told me a couple of days ago that he still hasn’t learned how to use his phone and he’s had it for about a year. His teenage son is a whiz with it though.
Some of you might remember when telephones filled the role for which they were intended: They made and received phone calls. What a concept! Today’s phones allow you to surf the ’Net, take photos, send notes, check the weather, get the latest headlines and sports scores, download ringer sounds, music and screensavers, play games, store and recover phone numbers – whew. It’s all too much for this non-technology oriented mind.
My husband lives by a creed that says if you have to read the instruction book to use a product, you’re: a) mentally impaired; b) mechanically deficient, and c) a poor shopper. Give me an A+ on all categories.
My reluctance to read instruction books isn’t based on an aversion to reading. I read avidly. I pick up three or four books from the library at least every couple of weeks. My children give me books. My mother always used to drop off books she thought I’d enjoy. At my previous job I traded books with a good friend. I love to read. I even read cereal boxes. I hate to read instructions.
A telephone is supposed to ring with a normal sound (not a tune from the Top 40s list). You’re supposed to pick it up, say “Hello,” and talk with someone you like. Its other function is to allow you to punch in a few numbers and make a lunch date with a friend. Any other function(s) is extraneous and irritating.
I’ve made a little progress. I’ve managed to change the color scheme on the wallpaper, store one phone number and select a ringer. Oh – and I managed to plug in the charger. Other than that, I’m stumped. I guess I could call somebody, but my home phone works perfectly well and I don’t see any reason to use unnecessary minutes.
What is with this “minutes” thing anyway? Back in the day when phones were phones, we all paid Southern Bell the same price every month, plus any long distance calls. Now we have to buy minutes? And what happens to all those minutes we don’t use? They must feel rejected as they go into some telephone purgatory and wait to be recycled to someone else.
Which brings up another question. Am I using minutes no one else wanted? If nobody else wanted them, why should I? Why can’t I get NEW minutes? Is there a price differential?
OK, I think I’ve agonized over this long enough. I’m going to read five more instruction pages tonight. By this time tomorrow, I should know how to send memos to my friend. Now I can annoy them not only with e-mails but also with text messages! Whoopee!
Lee Raynor is editor of KinstonPress.com. She welcomes your comments at
leeraynor@kinstonpress.com or you can discover whether she’s learned how to answer her new phone by calling (252) 361-7530.
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