It's not you, it's me

It isn’t working. And if I’m honest with myself, it never was.

We got together last March when his predecessor, a small blue Pantech, lost his head. I'd had high hopes for that one -- I nicknamed him Zoolander phone, because it looked like the one Zoolander had in that movie. But he was too small to live, though we had some good times together. For awhile, I tried taping both halves of his body together, but eventually, there was nothing anyone could do.

They said this one – a Nokia – was my only option, since the Zoolander was no longer being made. I’m not one to settle, but it seemed like all a girl of my means could do.

I hoped for the best. I tried to ignore his weird habits, like delivering my texts days after they were sent, only dialing out on his terms, always being tired (he's had a hard day), sometimes not letting my calls through (he's just protective, and a little jealous!) but it wasn't easy. I felt he was too masculine, with his big brute exterior, big buttons and even larger font.

I felt like he never suited me.

We reached the last bar, if you will, when the offenses became just too obvious. I would call out, and though I could hear who I called, they couldn't hear me. I was constantly taking his battery out and putting it back in; it was exhausting. I missed a few important calls, and friends thought i was ignoring them. What if there was an emergency?

It was with this resolute understanding I took him to 42nd and 5th yesterday. I’d stopped into another Cingular (excuse me, AT & T) the day before, flirting with the idea of leaving him there and ending it for good. I would cut my losses and run. But it turned out there was hope: the salesman believed I was under my warranty. I could trade him in for a new model, just like a man having a mid-life crisis! Just go to 42nd and 5th he said. I felt like I was sent to see the wizard.

I signed in at the magical 42nd and 5th cell phone repair center and waited for thirty minutes. The crowd was like the one you would find at a tow center: a sad, sorry lot, knowing they are about to get ripped off. Sighs filled the air. But not me, I had hope. A young, bespectacled man with a moustache asked if he could help.

“Yes, my phone’s not working, I understand I may be eligible for a new one since it is still within my warranty?” He went to type on his computer.


“It’s never worked," I added. "Not since I got it.” He looked back up at me patiently. I told him everything – the disappointment I felt, the betrayal, and that I didn’t ask for much, just the ability to receive calls, and that this phone just seemed incapable of even that. I didn’t even want internet! When I was finished, he looked back down at his computer.


“I’m sorry ma’am, but this is a refurbished phone. The warranty is up after 90 days.”

I stood, and tried to not to show my sinking heart. "But... I never even wanted him. He was all they would give me."


Spectacles was sympathetic, but unmoved. Was I at least eligible for a free upgrade?

“No, it says here you’re not.”

I wanted to say more, but realized there was nothing left to say. It was over. I turned to go, and he called after me. I stopped, and turned around.

"Theres a store, right down the block, if you want to try that one. Maybe the computer’s wrong, maybe you can get that upgrade.”

I saluted him, and walked to the next store.

New Salesman on 41st and 5th was talking to someone, but asked if he could help me. I explained I needed a new phone, trying to shake off the dejection I still felt. As he took me to the section, I saw one that looked exactly like the one I had.

“No!" I said, shuddering. "Nothing like this one. I don’t care what it is, just nothing like this one. Not even the brand."

He gave me the same look the last man had.

We walked back to the computer where he, too, informed me I was not due for an upgrade yet. I could go to Best Buy, he suggested, and buy one of these (his arm waved over to the section of darkness, where they all looked chillingly like the one I had) but then would be charged $100 for them to activate it. I could get a new phone now, but anything that didn't look like the piece of crap I had was hundreds. Could I just cancel and go somewhere else? No, that would cost me too.


How much do I have to keep giving when I'm getting nothing back? I’d done everything right, I told him – paid my bills on time, charged him when he needed it, never got him wet...but I couldn’t win. It wouldn't work. How much longer did I have to wait for what I needed?

March 30, 2009, said the salesman.