I need to learn to text. It is an efficient , quick means of communication. My daughter, my niece and even my older brother communicate this way so in order to contact them, texting would be helpful. Problem is I have an “Old Lady” phone. It calls, period. I have it so that I can call the tow truck when I break down. Since our Matrix now has 268,000 miles on it (go Maybeline), I think this is a wise precaution. I have no desire to actually have a conversation on my cell.
My most reasonable cell plan, $22.00/month, would only go up $2.50 per month for minimum text capability (the phone not me–mine is yet to be determined.) But I have to buy a smart phone, cheapest running $100. While my husband enjoys checking the weather on his smart phone ( I prefer looking out the window and once a day watching the news), I have no desire to surf the web or email from a phone. And then there’s the whole tracking by big brother aspect .
Most of all, I hate the assumption that everyone has a smart phone and can snap a photo of a Q square at any moment. If I buy a magazine and wish to enter a sweepstakes, I expect at least a web address where I can enter. And while we’re speaking of magazines, I get upset when I buy a paper magazine and open it to find it telling me to check out whatever on their web site–If I wanted the magazine online, I would have purchased it that way.
Lest you think I am a total technophobe, I write on my computer, not a yellow tablet. I have a Kindle which I enjoy when traveling–I like the fact that it lights up so I can read in the dark. But I hate the fact that I have to charge it. There is also the fact that it is not very compatible with our home wifi. In order to download a book, i have to stand by the router, unplug it , replug it, count thirty seconds and download immediately which doesn’t give me a lot of time to browse for books. But since I will read almost anything and price is the first thing I check, I’ve had some interesting reads.
Of course my daughter would bring up the “Little Men” story. My first experience with being online was a board of education office in which you could contact real people only during office hours and ask for information. When I was struggling through taxes and needed a missing form, my daughter suggested I go online.
“They won’t be there,” I argued, “it’s ten o’clock at night.”
“Who won’t be there?” she asked between hysterical giggles.
“The tax people.” I had no idea what she thought was so funny.
So now we refer to the “little men” inside my computer who are still, at crucial times, often absent.
Back to eating peanut butter to save up for my smart phone and the adventures of texting.