I have a good phone, but I don’t ask much of it. I’m sure it’s plenty capable. I imagine it could land a lunar module or call in a drone attack if I asked it to, and shoot me fifteen recipes for the Apocalypse just on a hunch. I’m also sure it goes on the cloud at night and makes fun of me to all the other phones. Mostly I use it for texting people. Once I discovered the little sucker takes better photos than any camera I have ever owned, I started doing that. And of course I have my Merlin Bird ID app because I simply can’t hear a Bewick’s wren enough times to recognize it.
I’m not real good at texting though, which is annoying for this crackerjack typist. I see people’s thumbs flying on those little buttons faster than a spider wraps a fly and although I suspect they’re being wieldy with the predictive text, it still floors me. By comparison I have all the manual dexterity of a T. rex. Plus it was a lot of trouble to put in the punctuation and such and I owe it to my tribe—the Sisterhood of the Old Fussypantses—to get it right. I don’t judge other people’s texts but if I send out a flawed text, why, I might as well spend the rest of the day running with scissors and sassing grownups.
That’s why I didn’t use the dictation option, which would otherwise be a good plan for someone of my limited skill. And then my friend told me I could dictate the punctuation too. I tried it out and it worked great. Once I figured out I had to say “She’s on her period period” to get it to come out right, I was golden. Still, I don’t use it much. I think I’ve always known it could be trouble.
So the other day I was walking with Dave when I got a text from a friend. She wanted to introduce me to someone. I wanted to reply but couldn’t walk and text at the same time, so I hit the little microphone dealie. What I dictated was “What’s her name?” Just before I popped it into the ether I noticed my text said “What’s your name?” Which is creepy. I mean, I might as well have typed “You so pretty. Can we friend?”
So I turned to Dave and said “I was just trying to dictate…” and stopped when I noticed it was still listening to me and THAT text was in there. “Jesus Christ!” I said in exasperation. And there it was, I swear to God, my sent text in a protective bubble:
WHAT’S YOUR NAME? I WAS JUST TRYING TO DICK JESUS CHRIST
It is possible I am not who this technology was designed for. It is possible I should be restricted to a quill-pen and a pounce-pot and if I have a message that requires more urgency I can holler into the night like Paul Revere.
Anyway, I also don’t know from Bluetooth. I’m not going to walk down the street talking to invisible people like a whackadoodle, My technology is simpler. The other day when I was wearing pants with no pockets I discovered I could jam my phone into my bra. I figured it out on my own even though this is ancient technology known to legions of grandmas who stow their hankies and pin money in their underwear. There’s plenty of room up top since the cup occupants have sought lower ground. I could put a Princess Phone in there and nobody would be the wiser as long as the curly cord wasn’t hanging out. What could go wrong?
Well. Nothing, except that the first time a passerby hailed me from the sidewalk and I stood up from weeding, something shook loose in that thing and suddenly my breasts went brrrrrrr twik twik twika toWEEE, trr titititititititi! Loud, too. If I had a cone bra, they could have heard it a block away.
My victim couldn’t help himself. He stared at my chest and said “What is that?” Hey, I wasn’t expecting it either. And it was still going off.
“I think it’s a song sparrow,” I said after a moment, as he executed a polite retreat.
Sometimes that Merlin app tells you more than you even needed to know. But like a bird on an underwire, I have tried in my way to be hands-free.
OMG, Murr! This had me laughing so hard, I was tearing up and having a coughing fit! I just have a flip phone, and have the texting feature cut from my plan, as I don’t text, and was only getting junk mail texts from various companies (and having to pay for each text!) I can identify with the line “manual dexterity of a T. Rex.” Arthritis has my fingers all gnarled, and sometimes my thumbs work, and sometimes they don’t. My acupuncturist tells me that my joints are too stiff. I tell him that I think of it as early onset rigor mortis.
I’m stealing that!
If your joints are too stiff, you’re probably rolling them too tight.
All of the above! All of it; your trials and tribulations with keeping up with proper punctuation, and the need to answer while walking (& in my case wrestling, with 2-4 dogs on leashes), and the hiccups with dictation! And I also echo everyone else’s snorts and titters and guffaws, AND my extreme appreciation for your tip of the hat to the fabulous Leonard Cohen at the end! Please never ever stop writing!
Thanks! I don’t seem to run out of material.
I’d better stop rolling joints with my acupuncturist, then. Or get him to do it. Or steal Paul’s vape pen, which precludes this problem.
ba-dum dum
Aw, jeez. I’m with Mimimanderly – giggling all the way through your post such that my husband thought the screw that had been loose in my brain for years had finally achieved orbit far away from my body.
I keep my cell phone off 99.9% of the time, not particularly wanting to be tracked like a grizzly or pestered when I’m in my car or doing errands, and like Mimi, I pay by the call or text. (On the other hand, I pay only $10/year to keep this “legacy” cell plan going, and although I don’t have access to data via cellular network, I can do anything I want via WiFi. I mostly don’t want.) I HAVE texted from time to time, and it’s damn awkward for this grammar-obsessed, touch typist, too. Haven’t tried anything using voice activation. Definitely not ready for the 21st century!!
My husband has one of those plans and keeps his shut off unless we are in different locations, because one of us might need to call the other. On the rare occasion that his is on, I am usually running errands and he may be cutting fire wood or bringing it in. Unlike guys who keep their phone in their pants (insert titter here), he puts it in his breast jacket pocket. The first time he “chest-dialed” me, he was lugging in fire wood and I was at the farmer’s market. I answered the phone and all I heard was heavy breathing and grunts. I was alarmed; I thought he had a heart attack and couldn’t answer me! I hung up and called back, and found out that he was just chest-dialing me.
Dave pants-dials me when he’s walking and all I can tell is his pace.
Well I use my phone more than you do, Joan, but way less than most people do. I do love texting. My phone hardly ever rings. For most interactions I’m happier with a little text than an interrupty call. My favorite is if it’s from an iPhone and I can type the response on my laptop. Typing, I can do.
If you get an AI image generator that takes verbal dictation, the resulting image of Jesus Christ would come out VERY interesting!
You first!
“…like a bird on an underwire.” You are the best, Murr.
So funny, wiping the tears from my eyes. Thanks!
Leonard Cohen is probably turning over in his grave…..laughing his ass off! Bravo, Murr!!! As far as texting goes, yeah – I too get frustrated that I can’t just bang out a message by using a full-sized keyboard. Oddly enough, I don’t *thumb-type*. I use the index finger of my left hand. My thumbs are just too fat and lazy.
I just tell people that I don’t text. I actually prefer e-mail because I have a full-size keyboard to work with, and an online dictionary and thesaurus to help me find the right word. My fingers used to be slender and nimble, but as I have gotten older, they have grown into claws. Which is odd, as the rest of me LOOKS normal, but those hands…. Ye gods! Aging is like being punished for a crime you never committed.
Oh. We committed it, darling. We committed it.
I laughed so hard at this whole post. I keep my ringer turned off and just have it on vibrate so unless I’m sitting on it (not an uncommon situation) I usually don’t know if someone tries to call me until afterwards. Then I can call them back. I much prefer to text!
I do too. It’s right civilized.
I still have a flip phone and used to be able to text without looking. My name, for instance, would be press-press-press, press, press-press-press, etc. My New! “Improved!” upgrade has such a wonky keyboard that it’s little better than a random-letter generator. Using the same sequence/number of presses, I’m just as likely to type Caso5yn for my name, if I don’t spend the time backspacing and retyping. A royal pain in the assets, pity about which is withheld by everyone I know (as they all live–and text–in this century).
The trade for being so stubbornly Luddite is that nobody bugs me about loading apps in order to do business with/for them.
Not only that, I’m the focus of much incredulity when around teens and young adults, who are astonished that people still have AND USE such ancient technology. (This is not, unfortunately, hyperbole for comedic effect. I heard their whispers behind me in an elevator recently.) But hey–I’m closer to 70 than 65, so what do I care at this point?
I, too, have a flip phone, and it seems that it takes more time to text (at least for me) than it does to just respond to a phone call. One doesn’t HAVE to have a long conversation on the phone; just answer the question and go your way. But I really prefer e-mail. I guess it’s a lot like texting, but with a much bigger keyboard and screen.
I read recently that younger people are pissed off at us oldsters who don’t have a smart phone or text. They just don’t realize that maybe we have fewer friends — who are currently alive — to keep in touch with. Also, maybe we have other things to spend money on than smart phones. Like food. Or health care. Plus, who can see ANYTHING on that ridiculously small screen?
I got my first cell phone only about ten years ago, I think? I do like it but I am a light user.
Yes! Email! My 30-ish neighbor things I’m adorable and quaint (not only because I don’t use my cell phone), and she happily emails me (probably the only person she emails). She moved here a year and a half ago, and I think I qualify as “local color” for her.
One of the minor bothers of the modern world is you have to know your friends’ preferred communication platforms, as well as their dietary requirements. It’s a lot.
SO true Murr. I’ve been noticing this for a while now. Was so much easier when you could just dial a number, change the channel, and put a roast on the table.
Not to mention their pronouns.
I deliberately didn’t mention that.
This is why I make sure I wear things that have pockets big enough to hold my phone. And there is no way ever that I will use the dictation mode. Half the time I forget it entirely and find it right on the tabe where I left it when I get home.
Me too. STILL sometimes when someone says they’re going to call, I’ll say “Sounds good, I should be home by then.”
I carry my flip phone in a tool pouch at my hip. The pouch also holds a pen, a notepad, a folding rescue knife and a mirror (not sure why, but it fits in there neatly). I have to leave extra room to clear the steering wheel when getting in or out of the car. I also have to cinch my belt a little tighter so it doesn’t pull my pants down.
I have recently got a “cross-body bag” at a consignment shop. Shoulder bags hurt my left shoulder. I didn’t trust a backpack, as it’s in back of me, where I can’t see it. Plus, I have to remove it every time I go to pay for something (which, at a farmer’s market, is a LOT of times.) Really, it seems that a person has to carry more and more stuff with them now. I mean, some things, like canvas bags and a folding shopping cart, I can keep in the trunk of my car. But there are other things, like money–phone–keys, that one has to keep on one. And there just aren’t enough pockets, or deep enough ones. Hence a cross-body bag. Even guys could probably find a version of this, so that they don’t look like John Fetterman.
I had planned to look for something that would hold everything more-or-less on the front of me, but then I read about what can happen if your airbag deploys when there’s even a small solid object in the way. (I guess if I were Scottish I’d use a sporran anyway.)
We all know what the sporran is really for.
Priceless- everybody’s said it all already- but here I am sitting with wetted underwear,,,,,,,,, OMG. We are old, we laugh and some of us are so damm funny….. Thanks Murr
PS loved the Merlin bird reference…. It doesn’t care how many times you use it for the same bird.
I hope it’s not passing judgment but one of these days I’m going to snap it on and its going to say “Really? Still Bewick’s Wren.”
Alone in the house. belly laughs now reduced to snorts and sniggers. Thanks.
Breathe, Bonnie, breathe!
I had no idea so many other people had flip top phones.
Nothing to offer, beyond what they’ve said.
I’ve had the same one for around 8 years, I’m finding I have to recharge it daily…the oldest daughter wants to replace it with a new, great smart phone. I’m resisting, but I see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Do nurses/caregivers in hospice work one’s phones for them? lol
Get one. Get it over with. Then you won’t have your pride stand in your way.
There are no words for how much I identify with you Murr. Thank you for making me laugh on a Monday morning sitting at my computer, typing.
Thanks pal!