I’m pissed. Excited? Sure. But still pissed.
My Samsung Intensity II has become obsolete. It’s a blue, plastic dumbphone, capable of nothing but text messaging, making phone calls and receiving voicemails. Fifteen-year-old Emily would be thrilled to have this phone, but 19-year-old Emily knows that it is no longer practical. And she hates Verizon Wireless for it.
I get teased for my cellphone. People ask me for my Instagram account name and I hold up my phone as an answer. Same goes with all of the latest everyone’s playing it! apps. And when my journalism professor holds up his iPhone and tells us our cellphones are some of the best tools we can have in our professional lives, I scoff.
Unfortunately, owning a simple call-and-text cellphone doesn’t cut it anymore. Nothing frustrates me more than when I am texting several people at once –– all of whom own smartphones –– and my phone freaks out (I call this its “I CAN’T HANDLE IT!” mode) and shuts itself down. Up pops the Verizon Wireless welcome screen and I curse under my breath. Sometimes I throw it. But I digress.
The idea of being connected all the time is thrilling, but it scares me. I don’t want to constantly be on my phone, staring at a screen instead of talking to someone in-person or enjoying what the beautiful outdoors have to offer. I promise I won’t become that person.
I have to go home today to pick up my new Droid Razr M. I’m pissed about the monthly cost, but I’ve faced the facts that my poor little Intensity II just won’t last much longer in this terrible, modern world. As the saying goes, “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.”
But at least I didn’t get an iPhone.