No Cell

I felt naked at first without a cell phone although I couldn’t see the screen without my Walgreen readers and now that we can’t drive and gab I don’t really need a mobile phone. Plus I am way too old to even know anyone who texts or who would want to text me and if I talked, texted, photographed to upload to YouTube I wouldn’t have time to do anything else.

So I first loaned my cell to a stranger who needed it and when she brought it back, I accidently on purpose stashed it in the car cup holder—in case it might ring, Husband could be reminding me to pick up a quart of Lactaid, yes, that’s how old we are which isn’t all bad—only the cup had water in it and that was the end of my powerful cell phone. Kaput forever.

I do feel something is missing. Not the car keys, not my sunglasses or my wallet. I’ve lost the part of me that existed from the time I first signed a two-year contract with some gigantic phone company and delighted in the power of connecting from everywhere. That depended on a faceless network that owned a part of my life, subject to rate increases and counting minutes. In my real estate agent days the cell seemed to pay for itself over and over. But now that I’m pretty house-bound land lines are quite sufficient. Clearer, too.

Whoa, not totally sufficient. Just now the Husband cells me from a doctor’s office to ask a detail. Cells, yes. If you can Skype or Text or Message, why not Cell somebody?

What have I lost? The terrific charge into economic activity the cell allowed. But there isn’t any real estate activity and even if there were, I wouldn’t want to do it again. The business of sales owns the saleswoman. It turns every human contact into a sales lead. It changes the relationship between me and my fellow humans, makes me a shill for property sales. Forces me to edit every conversation to enhance the Pitch. In a saleswoman’s life, every friend, every family member, every person at the Thanksgiving table is a potential commission. You have to make nice, bring a pie and keep your opinions to yourself.

I am so glad to be back into my preSales life where I can be truly me, speak my mind freely and let the devil take the hindmost. It’s been seventeen years of slavery. Who says Elderhood is all bad? I can live without a cell. I’ve got a real Second Life.