I woke yesterday morning with a technologic itch.
Just like a runny nose announcing a bad flue, I thought it was probably going to turn into something worse if I didn’t do anything about it. Like getting a technologic rash or maybe a technological stroke…
I hadn’d had a cellular phone in about 6 years when an oldish Nokia was given to me about three weeks ago, after promising to take good care for it, and be kind to the aged yet perfectly working device.
It had served me loyally, and I had been allowed to take it home after my trip to Denmark. It was standing on my coffee table ever since my return home, giving me the eye, promising me to be nice if I provided it with a Canadian access to the cellular network, saving it from retirement once again.
I was in doubt. I didn’t feel the need to have a cellphone again, therefore allowing my family and friends an all around the clock access to me no matter where I went and why. At the same time, Nokia was reminding me of the good times spent together, the easiness with which it had kept me in contact with my loved ones, and I thought it would be a pity to have made it travel so far to let it sit on a shelf, almost lifeless, charging it up once in a while just to look at the last messages it had taken care of for me, or the images it held memory of for me…
Chéri would probably have told me to take a younger and more appealing to the average mobile owner people cellular phone, espacially since they were often free with a new contract, but I didn’t need “a” cellphone, I wanted a new life for Nokia. Good thing for me, Chéri is now accustomed to my weird ways of thinking, and agreed that if that was what I wanted, then I should go and give Nokia a second, or third chance to be more precise.
I waited until mid-afternoon, pushing back the moment to be sure of what I was doing. I can be somewhat spontaneous, and giving a phone its comeback on the celullar highway was a responsability I had to weigh before taking the leap.
Of course, I finally gave in (otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this post), after much staring in Nokia’s lens. I put it in my purse, and we left my apartment to go to the mall.
It was Nokia’s first visit in a North American store, and I think it was a bit disapointed. It had dreamed of a bigger than nature America, and had to settle with a scenery that pretty much resembled the Danish malls it had been to in the past.
I walked to the counter of the provider I had looked up on the Internets, previously to our little escapade, and explaned my will to give Nokia a work permit on Canadian grounds. The salesman was obviously surprised I was so attached to an old thing like that, (he didn’t say it in these words, otherwise I would have covered Nokia’s microphone to prevent it from catching the man’s comment) but the client is always right, so he picked the cellphone to check if it needed to be unlocked, prior to reactivation.
He took Nokia’s batery out, did some sort of scanning of it and typed on his computer as I started having doubts… Would Nokia be denied a new life here, because of its foreign roots? I was ready to give it a brand new Canadian Sim card, which would be the equivalent of a new citizenship, but what if…
- I am terribly sorry M’aam… There is nothing I can do.
He gave me back Nokia, and I put it back in its white cover, with a knot in my throat. Nothing he could do… Meaning I would never again hear its ringtones, or see its new message notifications. I surprisingly felt sad I wouldn’t be able to have my cellphone back in service again.
I went to take a walk in the mall with Nokia in my hand, to talk about our good times together, and the fatality of the situation. It kept reminding me of that youngish slim black Samsung that was sitting on the counter while I had been talking to the salesman. Nokia didn’t seem too bitter about retirement, and even encouraged me to take a brand new, fresh from the box hotty…
- It wouldn’t be much more expensive, and she’d look good in your hands, that Samsung gal, you know? You could lay us next to eachother for charging up time, and let me entertain her with my Danish tales… Foreign stuff is always entertaining!
I didn’t know what to think of it… I didn’t NEED a cellphone, but I had developped a taste for the easy stay-in-touch access to my friends during my trip… Nokia kept its pep-talk going until I noticed how its arguments pointed to more than just wanting me to be safer and more up to date with 2016.
- You fancy that Samsung, don’t you??
Its lens fogged a little… I had put my finger on it!
After a little more talking, I gave up, and walked back to the Virgin counter. I signed all the papers, and learned all I had to know about my new Samung Galaxy Grand Prime… I pressed it next to Nokia in my purse, and took the subway back home…
I still feel a little sorry me and Nokia couldn’t keep working together, but looking at them, in the evening light, I am happy nonetheless. I took the following picture when they weren’t looking… You must admit they look good together.
Who would have thought it could work out? And old, charming, white Danish Nokia, and a brand new black Canadian Samsung… Uncanny yet working out love story.
Who am I to judge?