As the greatest part of each one of my days is misplacing my cell phone as I hate it (although I am quite smitten with Ginger’s new one) when I read stuff like this, I get a blank stare. Once I process the information which usually takes about two years, then I become filled with greed, envy and bubbling jealousy.
So imagine the uproar a decade ago when I decided to buy myself a Plantronics headset to allow me to work hands-free at my job in customer service for a large wholesaler of industrial products. The “Lily Tomlin/Ernestine the Operator” jokes ran rampant at my expense. That is until the rest of the denizens of my cubicle farm noticed that I didn’t walk around with a crick in my neck all the time like they did.
My phones at my office are so bad that I just want to throw myself off the roof. My new writer, Elizabeth, has offered to do this for me (or at least my computer when it crashes daily.) And as for my cell phone, where is that damned thing today.
I miss the days of a tin can and a string.