A year and change ago, I told you I didn’t have a cell phone just like some of the world’s richest and most powerful persons don’t. Then I got a deal that was too good to pass up: two years of service and a new phone of my choice, free. No strings attached. It’s who you know – no, you can not get this deal. So now I have a cellyphone.
The number, it is private. No, you can’t have it when I apply for whatever service or licence, and no strangerman you can’t have it either. One person calls me regularly, and one other person calls me in cases of exigency. That’s about it. I keep the phone turned on most of the time so my Darling Wife can get ahold of me immediately in case of emergency. If I am talking to someone and my pocket rings, I press the “mute” button on the phone and keep talking. Ditto for during meetings. I do not check my cell phone voice mail, ever.
If you were on the “A” list, you would know how to get hold of me at your convenience.
My mobile is for my convenience; not yours.
Today at work, one of the young guns had a cellular telephone that would not turn on. It was treated with exactly the same degree of hand-wringing zOMG action as if something bad were happening and he couldn’t get calls about it . . . but the only problem was temporary loss of THAT phone, in a building full of other phones all over the place. You will please excuse my total lack of sympathy.