Wanna read the latest
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by Wayne Scheer
“Sure, but why?”
“My sister told me about it,” she said. Her sister is seventeen, the oldest of my five grand kids “Is it really a flip-top?”
“Yes, it is,” I say proudly, knowing she's having fun with me. “The screen doesn't break if I drop it. How many phones have and your sister had to replace?”
She ignores my question as I hand her the phone.
“Wow. We learned about this in history class.” She examines it like an archeologist studying a fossil. “It's not even connected to the internet.”
“No, it's not a computer. It's a telephone.”
“What do you do with it? You can't even text.
“I use it for phone calls.”
“What's a phone call, grandpa?”
I take the phone from her and put it back in the glove compartment. “Go inside. At least your grandmother loves you.”
She sticks out her tongue and we both laugh.
I call my flip-top a compromise phone. My wife made me get it. I keep it in my 1995 Mazda Protege because she's afraid the car will break down on a deserted road at three in the morning during a snow storm, and I'll be stranded.
I explain that my lifestyle is such that it's highly unlikely I'll ever be in my car, alone, at that time on a deserted road during a snow storm. Especially since we live in Atlanta.
“That's not the point,” she says.
I thought it was, but that's no matter. A happy marriage is based on compromise, so I do what she says.
But I don't give out the number and I keep it turned off. That way I don't get a call when I'm driving.
And I don't get a call when I'm not driving.
But I keep it charged, as per wifely instructions, in case I need it.
My life is dull. I haven't had an emergency in the five years I've owned the phone, so I haven't used it.
I used it once. I was doing something while my wife shopped. She directed me to take the cell and call her if I finished early. She even offered me a tutorial on how to use the phone, which I will never admit to her I found helpful.
At any rate, I, in fact, finished early, and I called her.
I could have found a quiet coffeehouse and read a book and called her from the store's courtesy phone, but I used my cell like a good boy and let her brag on the convenience of a cell phone
“Now aren't you happy you have one?”
“Yes, dear,” I said. Did I mention the secret to a happy marriage?
So I'm the proud owner of a compromise phone. For a small monthly fee, it makes my wife feel safer and allows the grand kids some fun at my expense.
But as I watch the fourteen-year-old conspire with my wife, I suspect she turned the phone on when she was playing with it. I hope I remember how to turn the damn thing off.
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