I'm not a big fan of cell phone companies. None have ever done much to make me a loyal customer. I can, however, give some fine examples of me wanting to punch the CEO's in the face for all the frustration and horribible (yes, I wanted it spelled that way) customer service I've encountered.
When my kids are grown and gone and I don't have to worry about frantic phone calls for moments of distress, I plan on getting rid of my cell phone. I miss the days where I could be here and there and everywhere and nowhere and only available for conversation or personal requests when I felt like it.
So. The other day when Teen Son's phone broke (did I mention the horibible phone luck we have), I gladly handed him mine.
"Take it. I'm either going to be hanging at home. Or with Dad. If anyone calls for me tell them to call Dad's phone."
Teen Boy stayed at a friend's for that night and when he came home later the next day I had 10 voice mails. First five were for me. Number six was some other teen boy frantically trying to track down his backpack and wallet, which he thought he might have left in my son's truck.
It made me so happy to know my kid is not the only show in town that leaves his important stuff all over creation.
Messages seven and eight were for me.
Message nine was a bit of an eyebrow raiser.
"Hey TB, you fucking asshole, where the fuck are you? You said you were picking me up to go surfing an hour ago. Quit being a pussy and get your fucking ass over here before I have to beat the shit out of you."
Wondering who the hell that was, but before I could ponder message number nine too much, message number ten came in.
"Hi Auntie, it's K. I just realized TB might not listen to his messages before he gives you back your phone and if you got that last message instead of him, sorry about that. I came home from college for a week, so tell Uncle and everyone I said Merry Christmas. I hope I get to see you guys."