Cell Phone Interuptus
I am not even sure I can write about it because I keep thinking it is some horrible dream and I will wake up in the middle of a sentence to discover that it was that bowl of over-spiced chili, and not the bill from Verizon, that has tossed me into such a state.
But if were only a dream, I wouldn’t still be livid more than 24 hours after learning that my granddaughter ran up $600.00 dollars in phone charges on her new cell phone.
That was not a typo. I said SIX HUNDRED DOLLARS in phone calls and text messages. Mostly text messages! And that was after I bought 150 text messages per month. Surely, I thought, 3 or 4 per day were plenty for anyone, even a 15 year old.
I was so astonished when I learned of the bill, I was sick. My face turned red and I couldn’t speak for minutes.
“RUOK (that’s text message chat for Are you OK?”), my wife asked.
“Do I look like I’m GMBO? (Giggling my butt off?”) I managed to reply.
Wait until I get my hands on her. Wait until I get my hands on that phone, I thought.
In the way of background, it is important to note that my granddaughter is not well. She suffers from acute phonitus. That is an apparent incurable disease that causes uncontrollable urges to have a telephone in your hands at all times. Her condition is so bad that at one point during this past summer, I grabbed our family phone and marched down to the lake. I had taken all that I could take of her systematic violation of every phone rule I ever invented.
It was after dark and she literally held the back of my shirt as she attempted to stop me. I drug her all the way to the waters edge as she cried intently for the salivation of the phone. A drew back and slung it as far as I could with the highest degree of satisfaction.
To my shock and horror, I heard a splash as she swam into the darkness to save the phone. Amid the snakes and alligators, I was convinced I would never see her again as she attempted to find that telephone and retrieve it from its watery grave. I stood there shouting at her get out of the water.
“Have you lost your ever-loving mind?” I yelled. “Get out of that water before you die of Pneumonia!”
After realizing the hopelessness of her cause, she waded back to shore as I stood there in disbelief at this impromptu show of teenaged desperation. It was pathetically funny and even she had to laugh when she finally realized the depth she was willing to go over that telephone.
She was completely phoneless for more than three months; a life time for a 15-year-old girl.
I thought I had made a heck of an impression. So much so, I decided by Christmas that it was time to give her a phone of her own.
Call me stupid. Call me ignorant. Call me a therapist… Call me a banker… so I can take out a loan to pay for my mistake.
I had cleverly disguised the Christmas gift by placing a few pounds of corn in the box so it would rattle. I wanted her to be completely surprised when she opened the box to see a brand new Verizon Razor phone inside.
It was amazing. I don’t think I had ever seen a child so happy in my entire life. That memory will live with me forever even though it was trumped by the fresh memory of the January bill. She carried it with her to dinner, to bed, to school, I even believe she placed it in a baggy and bathed with it. She and the phone were inseparable.
“You’re keeping track of your minutes, right?” I asked almost everyday.
“Yes, Poppy, I am keeping track of my minutes.”
I believed every word.
Six Hundred Dollars! Six Hundred Dollars! How in Sam’s name could anyone run up a bill that high in so short a period of time? The phone came with plenty of minutes for the average human being, and nights and weekends free. That means she must have been calling and or sending text messages every waking minute since December 25, 2007.
My wife was the messenger. She found out about the bill two days earlier but apparently decided to wait to tell me fearing the shock would kill me and she would get stuck with the bill.
I sat there unable to focus on what I was going to say. Later, I managed to pick myself up and went into her bed room where she was sleeping the sleep of angels.
“GET OUT OF BED. WE HAVE TO TALK!” I screamed loud enough to part the waters in the lake and expose the old house phone.
A few minutes later, she came into the kitchen where I was impatiently waiting for the confrontation.
“How could you run up a Six Hundred Dollar phone bill?” I asked in the calmest of tones. (I think I may have damaged my vocal chords in my earlier rampage).
I waited for the explanation. This was going to be good. These words, these important words that will live forever came slowly and steady. I knew that she had to have known. We had numerous conversations earlier about daily allotments, responsibility. I had her do the math so she could pace herself. “This is a test of your maturity”, I would say, and on and on. Surely she had a reasonable and maybe even a logical explanation.
“I don’t know” she whispered. (That would be IDK for all of you text messengers)
“Is that all you have to say?”
“Well, you shouldn’t have sent me so many text messages.”
Now I am really steamed. This is something she picked up from her grandmother. You know, when backed into a corner and all else fails, shift the blame quickly.
“Your phone days are over”? It was the best I could muster.
She tearfully departed and sequestered herself to her bedroom in order to come to grips with the separation anxiety that will surely follow.
Here is how it ended. She owes me $600.00. It will be paid off one job at a time at $10.00 per hour. She spent most of Sunday afternoon raking the yard. She will spend the rest of the winter raking the yard until every last penny is paid. With luck, she might get the phone back on the weekends until I recover my lost funds.
When I told her of the repayment plan, I put it this way:
IWALU. But right now, I am really angry. IMNSHO, you owe me a lot of money. When you pay me back every penny, your phone WBW4U. There is no way I am going to CMM. So don’t even try. And while you are raking yards and doing chores and everyone else is having fun, I’ll be LSHMBWBB.
- IWALU: I will always love you.
- IMNSHO: In my not-so-humble opinion.
- WBW4U: Will be waiting for you.
- CMM: Change my mind.
- LSHMBWBB: Laughing so hard my belly will be bouncing.
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About Me
The life of any News Director is stressful most days... so, when the weekend rolls around I find myself on the back roads of our bountiful and beautiful part of the state looking for bluegrass music, interesting things to do, and, of course, fried chicken. I will try to share some of these "finds" with you. There are a thousand stories left to be told or simply remembered. Don't expect to find them all here; maybe just a little stroll down memory lane or maybe a little skewed insight into topical issues.
Larche Hardy,
News Director
Recent Entries:
- Marty Raybon and Georgia Bluegrass
- Curse of the Acoustic Guitar
- A Millville Hero
- Bluegrass at BAMA JAM a hit!
- Bird watching not a bore
- No Poet Laureate
- Let the Bluegrass begin
- Hurry Spring
- Alabama’s Highway 52
- Cell Phone Interuptus
- Bellying up to the bar
- Resolutions are Doomed to Failure
- Bah-dad-gum-Humbug
- A hunting we will go!
- Hot Stuff!
Other News13 Blogs:
- The Casual Historian - Larche Hardy
- Behind The Scenes - Heather Kretzer
- The Resident Gator - Megan Albright
- The Newby - Jessi Chapin
- Bloggin' From The Beach - Bree Sison
- Gainesville, Georgia's All American Girl - Tuquyen Mach
- ... and yes, my hair is naturally curly - Jessica Foster
- Derby Girl - Enocha Van Lierop
- Cracker Cat - Jeannie Weller
