lesley crewe


Phone = Android = Hemorrhoid = Pain in the ass

on May 7, 2011

I’ve been sitting for days, now with a cushion, trying to learn my new Android phone. It’s my fault. I said I wanted it even though my daughter said she wasn’t going to help me. I don’t know what her problem is. She can program just about anything on the planet with her computer keyboard and design a friggin’ magazine from cover to cover.  So what if I ask her a few things.

“I don’t have your phone, Mom,” she says over the phone. “Not all phones are alike. I’d have to have it in front of me.”

Funny….that’s what her brother said. I don’t believe them.

“All I want to know is how to answer the damn thing. I already figured out how to find an app and press a widget and set up my bank account and find out the weather forcast in Vancouver but what happens when the phone actually rings?”

“You anwer it.”


“What do you mean how?”

“The screen keeps going black. Every time I want to see something it turns off. I paid good money for this thing.”

“It’s saving the battery.”

“I don’t want the battery saved. I want to know how to answer the phone and I want to know how to call someone on the phone. It is a phone after all. I don’t need to know where the star constellations are in the sky or how to drive to Atlantic City. I want to call the dentist.”

“There should be a box that says ANSWER. You press it.”

“Call me.” I hang up and wait….and wait…..and wait…..!

I call her back. “Why aren’t you calling me?”

“I did call you but I just remembered you don’t have service in Homeville.”

“So I can’t call you and I can’t text you….is that what you’re telling me.”

“You’ll have to run to the bungalow to use it, or go to Sydney.”

Like an idiot, I drive a half an hour to Sydney and sit in the Mayflower Mall food court sipping a large de-caf with one and a half creams and call Sarah. She answers. I’m thrilled. Like I’ve done something terrific.

“Now I’ll text you.”

“Okay.” She hangs up.

I fiddle and slide my finger up and down and sideways trying to remember what icon to use to text someone. It must be the little green man’s head. I push it and I’m right. It’s ridiculous how proud I feel. I find Sarah’s name and press on it. Now I have to turn the phone around to press the keyboard because there’s no way my inexperienced fingers are going to use the tiny letters on screen.

I send her the message. “Hi oney. i’m jere at the malll so text me rifht back. Love you. mom. X0”

I wait….and wait…..and wait. This is for the birds. I try to call her but I can’t find the right screen. Then a little peep goes off. I hit the volume button first and then the camcorder comes on and I’m filming my feet. I’m panicked thinking I have to answer this text and if I don’t, do I lose it?

Somehow I press the right button by accident and there it is.


I hear the Hallelujah Chorus. Maybe that should be my ringtone.

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