Cellie Installation-will go on display with other tributes to recycling in Oct, 2011
I knew I was in for it when I opened the instruction booklet on my new Blackberry and the font was size 8—if even. I’m thinking I’m gonna need adaptive equipment just to get started.
O.k. I was born smack in the middle of the baby-boomer years, and I do feel a certain sense of demographic entitlement. I’ll admit it. Font size 8? Come on—I thought 12 was marketing industry standard.
Marketing? Huh? This is an instruction booklet, right? Ha!
I open the teeny booklet and realize that T-Mobiles’ priorities are to sell me more apps. Hello, 411-connect, please: I can’t yet use the ones this gadget already has!
Forever, I’ve been adamant that I want my cell phone to be just that: a phone. No apps, no internet-connection. Hold the camera, please, don’t need it.
Texting? Had my current phone for 3 years before a family emergency pushed me to learn the texting feature it contained. Did ya notice I just wrote 3 years? Not a typo. I’ve now had the same cellie for 6 years, and maybe I should have been upgrading all along as my cell company’s been suggesting, but why? My cellie works fine and there are already enough of other peoples’ old cell phones taking up space in my art studio, waiting to be transformed into the next Great American Sculpture.
Back to the Blackberry. I have been assigned one as standard equipment needed for my work. All well and good. But the training component (also standard) hasn’t caught up with the delivery of the hardware. I’ve got this new puppy. Haven’t been able to make a phone call with it—or answer one either, for that matter. Would love to enjoy it’s “awesome” features as much as my co-workers are enjoying theirs. Maybe next week?