I received a text message from my good friend VERIZON WIRELESS that read, “You’ve used about 75 percent of your 3GB data plan (cycle ends the 10th).” It was the 19th. I texted my other good friend with whom I share the aforementioned 3GB of monthly data, my wife, like “What gives?” I immediately received a text back that read, “You’ve used about 90 percent of your 3GB data plan (cycle ends the 10th).” I put the phone down, slowly backed away, ran across the street and hid behind a tree.
Suspecting my wife’s phone was the culprit, it still fell on me to call Verizon because my wife is on the road all day. (My office job, apparently, consistently affords me the opportunity to take care of such personal matters. Can’t talk now, boss-I’m on hold with PetSmart grooming.) The first bit of information Verizon needed, because my wife is listed as the account holder, was the last four of her social or our Verizon password. Regarding the latter, infinity question marks. (One of my guesses was “Bosco,” a reference Daneesh emphatically did not get.) Regarding the former, should I know that? Because I didn’t. Still don’t, because I already forget it after receiving it via a text that officially sent our data plan over the limit.
Long story short—a cool phrase considering this entire column is the story—yes, it was my wife’s phone. We normally don’t even approach 40 percent of our available data, but my wife’s phone was, for some reason Verizon couldn’t figure, chewing up data even while on Wi-Fi.
The easiest solution was for my wife to get a new phone, something I’ve been telling her to do for the past two years, or at whatever point it was her phone reached a memory limit that rendered her unable to take pics, run updates, or basically do anything modern phones are supposed to do. If I had a nickel for every time she asked me, “Where’s your phone?” when a photo op presented itself, we’d own Apple.
So why hasn’t she? Two reasons. The latest iPhone is never good enough. She refused to get the iPhone 4S because “Why isn’t it the 5? What’s that (expletive)?” When the 5 came out, she said, “They keep coming out with them so you’ll buy them,” and so she refused. She couldn’t roll her eyes hard enough when the 5S and 5C were released, ironic considering my 5S is all she uses. The 6 is too big? I don’t know. If you’re wondering, my wife’s iPhone model is the negative 8.
More important than that, however, is her fear of losing her stuff in a phone transfer. Like voicemails. My wife literally said to me, while citing reasons why she won’t upgrade her phone, that she doesn’t want to lose her voicemail messages. I can’t even. I would bet anything at least of one of them is me telling her “I got the toilet paper. Love you.” I hope you can see now how difficult it is for me to get rid of anything in our house with even an iota of sentimental value.
It’s mainly her pictures she’s worried about though, despite the fact she has watched me back them up by uploading them to our laptop multiple times. She has seen them with her own eyes on the computer, yet refuses to believe they exist, or, more accurately, is concerned the second she switches phones, our computer and the external hard drive I use to back up that will both spontaneously combust. Her worst fear in life is losing pictures, the best of which exist in cyberspace in about 10 different formats, and the rest of which no one would have any desire to see again anyway.
My point is, because of her stubbornness, now I can barely use my own phone since we’re sharing data. I will henceforth communicate only through these columns, in which case I want all of you to know, I got the toilet paper.
Note: This column appears in the 12/25 issue of The Glendale Star and the 12/26 issue of the Peoria Times.