Hubby has been counting down to this day for several months now. Every few days he'd sidle up beside me and said, "Do you know how many days?" And I'd answer, "I dunno. Two weeks?" And he'd get all huffy and roll his eyes and go, "Nine days. Nine." Then he'd skip off all giddy-like.
You see, 2 years ago this April, I upgraded to the worst smart phone ever in the whole wide world:
The LG Optimus.
What was I thinking?
This sassy piece of bastard machinery stubbornly refused to work the moment I clicked "Confirm My Order" on the Sprint page. I even had problems with getting it shipped to the correct address. I should have known even then that this devil-phone would give me trouble for the next two years until my next available upgrade.
Want to cruise the internet?
Sure! You just have to wait 5 hours for it to load.
Want to post a status on Facebook?
Fine! Just know the moment you open the app it will have an error and quit.
Want to make a phone call?
Not a problem! Be prepared that the very moment you have an urgent, if not emergent, phone call to make, the phone will freeze for absolutely no reason whatsoever and restart.
At least once every day for the past 2 years, I have uttered the words, "I. Hate. My. Phone." In absolute disgust. Sometimes I didn't have to say it. I would just start angrily jabbing at the screen and Hubby would interject (without looking), "I know. You hate your phone."
Shortly after I received Crap Phone, Hubby upgraded to an iPhone 4. Not the newest model, but it pooped gold compared to the Purple Beast. I envied him the moment he opened the box. We are a Mac family all the way, and my Purple Mistake was the sore thumb of our electronics collection.
So I vowed.
I vowed that the moment I was available for an upgrade, I would get an iPhone.
And then Hubby made it his mission to Make It Happen. And not just any iPhone. He wass determined to get me the iPhone 5.
Yes friends: the phone that walks on water.
I'm starting to believe he is more excited about the phone than I am. Don't get me wrong. I'm Mac to the core, and I'm stoked to have an iPhone. With all the social media I am doing, especially events that involve live tweeting or projects that involve immediate emails, an iPhone 5 will be a huge advantage.
Case in Point: The time my phone died (surprise, surprise), and I was live tweeting during the media event for the Philadelphia Flower Show last year. Hubby graciously lent me his phone, and I was tweeting my regular hilarious commentary. Then, I took this picture:
|A cabana clearly in need of a Cabana Boy.|
With the tweet, "All we need is the Cabana Boy!"
But in all of my iPhone ignorance, I tweeted under Hubby's handle and not my own.
You might imagine all of the colorful tweets he was receiving in return.
So yes, my very own iPhone will be beneficial (for both me and Hubby, apparently).
Well, it's February 1. And Hubby's Mission of the Day was:
Order Steph an iPhone 5.
Which he did.
But since we live in an age of Crappy People, Sprint called me about an hour ago to confirm I am who I say I am. Or something like that.
(Sidenote: I find it ironic that Sprint calls and says, "Hi I'm suchandsuch from Sprint, and in this day an age of fraud and identity theft, we 'd like to securely confirm your recent order." But like. Yeah, you say you are from Sprint. But I can say I am the Dalai Lama. Shouldn't they be confirming who they are before they start confirming who I am? What if they are the people scamming me for my identity? Thoughts to ponder...)
So I was talking to this nice robotic customer service-type lady from Sprint. I let her know that I was driving and may get cut off, since I often lose coverage on the road I am on (C'mon Sprint! Fix this!). She said she would confirm quickly and took my number in case she needed to call me back. I gracefully jumped through all the Secret Questions with correct answers. Sprint Lady wanted to give me an estimated shipping date, and was taking her good ol' time typing to find this information.
With every yard I drove, I moved close and closer to The Call Dead Zone. I started getting nervous as we approached the familiar curve where calls get lost. Right before I arrived at the curve, the Sprint Lady's typing stopped.
Sprint Robot Lady: "Ok. Thank you. I wanted to make sure the phone would not be going through any other departments."
Me (quickly): "No problem."
Sprint Robot Lady: "It looks like the estimated shipping date for your phone is sakdjhsdghajdfkjnkjn,d -----------..........."
Even though it's days are numbered, that damn phone had to get in one last defiance at my expense.
Well played, Purple Devil. Well played.
You may have won the battle. And I don't know when (since you dropped my call like a butthole), but in just a few short days, I will have won the war.
Then you can go drop your calls where the sun don't shine.