Buying A New Cell Phone Is A Pain In The A**

My cell phone was six years old and showing signs of age. Sometimes, it worked perfectly. Other times, it would randomly shut off and refuse to turn on until the mood moved it. A few weekends ago, it rallied after a friend accidentally dropped it in a bucket of water. But then, last week, after I spilled a drink on it  - which was a waste of good vodka - it permanently diiiiiieeeeedd.

Have you purchased a new phone lately? The reason I ask is because I want to know if you found the process to be as big a pain in the ass as I did.

For starters, if you are a wife and your husband’s name is PRIMARY on your phone plan, your husband must be present for you to buy a new phone, even if you are also listed on the plan. Am I the only one who did not know this? 

After being presented with that ridiculousness, I called Bill from the store on a borrowed phone and said, “I’m trying to buy a new phone, but apparently, I’ve been zapped back to 1962 because I need your permission and presence here to do so.” The kid behind the counter snickered and said, “I don’t know why, but we hear that all the time.”

Excuse me? You don’t know why you hear that all the time? How about because IT’S STUPID?! If Mr. PRIMARY On the Account becomes incapacitated, who do you think is responsible for paying the bill?  This girl right here.

I spent a good hour in the phone store waiting for Bill while watching How I Met Your Mother on a giant screen in the back of the store. Good grief, that was the most annoying television show ever. No offense to Neil Patrick Harris, but Barney Stinson is a douchebag, although I was the only one in the store with that opinion since the guys working there were high-fiving each other and saying things like “Yeah, man” each time Barney did something douchy. 

To help pass the time, I asked the President of the Barney Stinson Fan Club what he thought was wrong with my phone. He picked it up, started opening the back, and said, “Let's check to see if there is any water damage. Has it gotten wet lately?”

“Well, last night I…”

“Nope. No water damage at all.”

Sure, kid. If you say so.

“It’s just squishy.” 

“Squishy? What does that mean? Wet? Water damaged?”

“No. It's squishy, like it’s soft and not hard.”

Excuse my language, but what the actual f*ck was he talking about?!

Next, I spent time looking at the new phones, trying to choose the one I wanted (AKA the least expensive.) After I made my choice, one of the phone store guys said, “You don’t want that one. It has a home button. That one is better for older people who can’t get used to not having a home button. Like people over 50.” 

I’m not sure, but I think there was an unintended compliment buried in there, along with an insinuation that people over the age of 50 are ancient and obstinate. Oh my gaaaaaawwwwddd, at that point, I entered the shoot-me-now-because-I-need-to-get-the-hell-out-of-this-store stage. 

Bill finally arrived and acting as THE PRIMARY he gave his permission regarding his wife getting a new phone and oh the joy we experienced while the phone store guy was trying to enter our - I mean THE PRIMARY’S - information, the computers went down five times.

Thankfully, three hours after I arrived, I left with a new phone and instructions to “scan this barcode, and please give us a 10 out of 10 customer service rating” because apparently, that’s something that I, as the little wifey, didn’t need THE PRIMARY’S permission to do, and okay, yeah sure. I’ll get right on that.