I'm sitting at Vic's having been stood up by my 9 a.m. coffee meeting.
I had thought of checking my email prior to rushing down here. But I figured if he was running late he would have called by now.
When I got to the coffee shop, five minutes late by my watch, there was no sign of him. So I fumbled around in my bag for my cell phone to see if there was a message.
There was a text. It was from the fellow I was supposed to meet, apologizing for having to cancel, stating he'd call ASAP.
A text?
I'm still baffled enough by my new phone that I couldn't tell when it arrived. I started to thumb a reply, but couldn't figure out how to make it recognize "Vic's" as an acceptable word. So I decided I'd send him an email once I got the laptop situated.
But first I had to vent a little.
I'm a fairly wired (and wireless) boomer, but I rarely use my cell phone. It's more of a nice to have than a must have. I even downgraded my service from an all-you-can-eat plan to a pay-as-you-go because I just wasn't using the shmorgasbord enough.
The cell is mostly for emergencies, for courtesy calls, for killing time waiting at the dentist's office. It's usually with me, and if it rings (and I hear it) I answer. I look at it maybe once a day to see if it's holding any messages. I never text. And until today I had never gotten one.
The home/office number is a different story. Gotta have it. Use it all the time. Fight over it with my husband, who also works at home. Get the messages immediately and return calls.
If you want to reach me do it the old-fashioned way. Call me, on the land-line number.
