A High Tech, Very Scary Dream, My Telephone & Me
Posted November 9, 2010on:
I walked out of the restaurant into the dark night after a family celebration, expecting to be picked up by Dick, Maggie and Michael. They aren’t there.
I walk around and nothing seems familiar and now I cannot find the restaurant where we ate. I grab my phone and try pushing the speed dial, or using the contacts list and the listing of recent calls to or from Maggie.
The only number I remember in my head is Michael’s – perhaps because it used to be my own. But he is not answering. (Call it a dream or a nag; you choose, Michael.)
I try again and again and then I look at the phone – really look at the phone – and it is not my Blackberry. It is some stranger’s old, broken down phone with buttons missing.
I am alone. Scared . Phone free. I am lost.
That was the nightmare with which I woke this morning. The good news is that it was just a dream, a bad one, at that.
But it is so close to the mark. My mom was a walking telephone book. Ask her for any number and she had it in her head long into her aging, although clearly not at the end.
I am not a phone book and it’s getting worse as I rely more and more on my contact list in my telephone or looking up a number on the web.
When “wireless caller” shows up on our home phone caller ID, I know it is “my favorite wireless caller,” AKA Maggie. Don’t tell her but she practically is my only wireless caller.
When Susan Hessel shows up on my caller ID, I am puzzled because I didn’t realize I was calling me. Or, it is Dick or that long-lost call from my long-lost son, Michael. Both have phones with my old numbers but still my name on it. We really need to change that, guys.
And I must add, Michael isn’t that long-lost; I talked to him two days ago. But a mother can nag … and it was part of my dream.
My phone is not long-lost either – at this moment. It is just to the right of me on the end table in the living room where I write this.
But my phone disappears regularly and is probably called by me more often than I receive any other calls. Sometimes they go unanswered because I left it in the snow by my car at the airport. Or, it may be on the back floor of our car when we flew from Madison to San Francisco in October.
I was lost without it for nearly a week in California and lots of people were trying to find me. It’s not that I’m that important or popular, but we were going to a family wedding and family members were interested in finding us.
I had to instead ask Dick for his not-so-smart phone to call them, or as he put it, “it didn’t even finish high school.” If he could, he joked he would like to have a dial mobile phone. But he doesn’t lose his phone, although he says he has panicked while talking on it wondering why it is not in his pocket. I have, too.
I’ve long wanted mitten clips on my cell phone. Or some other way that
would keep it close to my body. Long ago, my favorite wireless caller informed me that a holster or a clip on my belt was not cool. And at 58 and still a hot lady, I prefer to maintain my coolness.
So that’s why I’ve been looking at the Zomm, a wireless device that attaches to your key chain to alert you when you and your phone are not one. Amazon describes the ZOMM this way:
- A wireless leash, a speakerphone, and a personal safety device combined into one sleek device–connects to all Bluetooth enabled phones
- Fully functioning speakerphone with a noise-canceling microphone; notifies you of incoming calls
- Alerts you anytime your phone is more than 30 feet away so you won’t leave your phone behind
- As a personal safety device, ZOMM can sound a loud panic alarm and automatically dial emergency assistance
Does that sound like something I need? And the price is dropping from $99 to $59 and change.
Stop me from ordering it before the holidays. Hint. Hint. Hint.