My old phone was waiting up to three minutes to send my texts -- a problem in an actual emergency. It was also refusing to let me access the photos I'd taken with it. Elder daughter had a technical explanation for this; she informed me the phone was "evil". This was odd, as she had helped me acquire it.
Nevertheless, I enlisted her help once more, and on a Sunday afternoon, we arrived at the outlet. Elder daughter immediately started speaking for me, a bit to the bewilderment of the representative, who figured out that I was an English speaker in my right mind -- possibly due to my sly and dry asides.
Fortunately, she was a clever and courteous woman, who explained everything carefully. In turn, we attempted to sell her on JazzFest and ChamberFest, but she lives in Barrhaven. Bit of local humour there.
I departed with an iPhone on my person, which meant I had three days to re-learn my mobile phone skills - such as they are - under elder daughter's tutelage.
She nearly gave up on me the moment we arrived home.
As I updated my contacts list, I sent texts to the immediate members of my family.
To younger daughter, who was in the house but nowhere in sight, I texted:
"I've just got a new phone!"
The reply was immediate. I could see the little typing icon.
Cool, who is this?
Nonplussed, I responded: "It's Mum."
Can't be. My mother's here.
Now, to be fair to me, I've had several surreal texting encounters with younger daughter, so I typed:
"Where are you?"
In the kitchen.
With dawning horror, I called to elder daughter in the living room: "Uh, is your sister in the kitchen?"
"Why do you want to know?" she said wearily. A number of unfortunate events over the years have severely damaged her faith in my ability to master social media.
I ended up apologizing to the remarkably patient person whose number I'd erroneously entered into my contacts. No worries, said he or she laconically. I kind of guessed.
Elder daughter's first and equally laconic text to my new phone: Hiding. For obvious reasons.
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