I only use my cell phone for making and receiving calls when I’m away from home or if my husband is using our house phone. That’s it. I’ve learned how to text but don’t. I prefer to read my emails while sitting at my desk. Discount store coupons are downloaded from my computer before I leave home. Talking on the cell while driving is not my thing—I’m a blue tooth failure. If I happen to receive a call while behind the wheel, I disconnect as soon as I need to change lanes. I never knew my cell phone could take pictures until my granddaughter asked me to borrow the phone so she could take a picture of something to show her mother. It’s the only time that feature was ever used. On the extremely rare occasion I find myself away from home and need SOS information from Google, I call someone, usually Florida son, who has immediate computer access.
Recently, a friend showed all the features of her new Smart Phone to a group of my friends. It has every gizmo on it from a way to store bar codes for shops she frequents to the ability to Skype. I’ve had a Skype for over a year on my home computer and have yet to learn to use it, nor have I received one call on it.
All I could think of while my friend proudly demonstrated her proficiency in maneuvering from one feature to the next and “everyone” was expressing a desire to get one like hers was security issues. What if it is lost of stolen? Does each site she uses have a secret access code protecting her confidential information, or will this private information literally be an open book allowing thieves to do her harm? (Those who follow The Good Wife know that stored texts are foreshadowing a future story line.) Will the information available on these phones become more lucrative to thieves than stolen diamonds?
While my friend continued to show all the phenomenal potential her phone has and I don’t want, my mind wandered back about 25 years to when Hubby and I went to buy my then 82-year-old mother her first micro. The salesperson advised us to buy a “Senior Micro.” He explained that old people have trouble with too many choices when they use the micro. Would this same salesman today call my simple phone a Senior Phone?
Well, if he would put my generation down, my peer was proving him wrong. Seniors don’t need simple “Senior Phones.” The only reason I don’t want one like my friend’s is I have no need for it. It has nothing to do with the fact that the first time I used my fairly new SIMPLE phone someone literally had to yell at me to press “send” when it was ringing, and I couldn’t figure out how to answer it. (My old phone had a “talk” button. )And it has nothing to do with the fact that I still can’t enter phone numbers in my phone. If I really wanted a very complicated phone, I’m sure I could master all that is involved. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.