Alex Goes Off! - 'After the Beep'

Today, I became one of those people. You see them everywhere. Walking into traffic. Carrying on conversations while ignoring their companions. Making purchases without saying a word, just nodding and grunting. Today, I joined the cellar world.

This was not a rash decision. The possibility of getting a cell phone has been on my big to-do list (because as everyone knows there are different kinds of to-do lists) for six months. The fact it's been on any sort of list for such a long time may be an indicator I really don't need one. But I'd prefer to think I was being cautious (cautious in the way Hamlet was cautious to the point of indecision...I don't know). There was a lot of research involved in the process. Research along the lines of asking people who have cell phones, "Who is your provider?" "Oh yeah, are you happy with your service?" Again, this so-called research went on for six months.

In the end I went with the same carrier and package one of my best friends has. Does this mean I could have just asked him six months ago if he was happy with his service and been done with it? Yes and no. I did ask him six months ago and he was happy. So why the delay? Because I didn't want to be a cell phone person.

Bottom line: cell phone people are rude. This is probably a chicken and egg question (as most things are, so we'll save that for another day). Are cell phone people rude to begin with? Or do cell phones make people rude? We'll find out in another six months. Or maybe we won't. I don't like to think of myself as a rude person, but maybe I am and that's why I decided to get a cell phone. Either way there are etiquette issues involved.

Aside from the rudeness and/or self-importance factor of cell phones (the latter you would think a thing of the past since they're so prevalent, but not always so), another concern on the con list of reasons not to get one: if you have a cell phone, people can reach you. Oximoronic as that may sound. Sometimes you just don't want to be found. Personally, when I'm in my car, I want to be left alone. My car is to me what bathrooms are to men. My car is my sanctuary. Once I learn how to work my new phone (aptly but not very originally named the "silver bullet" because it's well, silver) it will never be turned on in my car. It won't be on in public because of the potential rudeness factor anyway. That's what voice mail is for.

And voice mail was on the (yet another) list of what I wanted in features. But like most things in life, I got more than I bargained for. "Al, you got the Lexus of phones and not a Kia." My response: "But it was the same price as the Kia." A pet peeve: people who have nice cars, but don't know how to drive them. I don't know how to drive my cell phone. My phone has the things I wanted and so many things I don't know how to use. The aforementioned voice mail: being neither button, nor instructionally inclined, someone had to walk me through the set-up. The "sb" has a camera. Meanwhile, there are settings on the camera I've had for five years that I don't know how to use. Maybe my phone is driving me.