Things hadn’t been right for a while. I felt let down. I had to try too hard. The touch was wrong, all attitude and no control. It wasn’t that I was being fickle. Really, there was just no heart connection.
In my work, a cell phone has to do a lot: taking photos and videos in unexpected places, editing on deadline, and calling in breaking news. And, of course, in the day-to-day world it’s a lifeline to family and friends.
I’ve been frustrated ever since I got my first smart phone. Touch one thing? Something else opens up. My fingers were too big. And if you have long fingernails? Forget it.
It was confusing. I bobbled my Android trying to open it to type, and constantly dropped it. I couldn’t unlock it in time to answer a call. Maybe the problem was me. But whatever it was that made my old phone the worst possible choice for me dissolved when I held a BlackBerry.
Slick, solid, one-stop shopping. Easy email. Check a document for work? Simple. A text? No worries. Need directions? Here’s the GPS. My BlackBerry even capitalizes the first letter of every sentence, just to save me time. That’s considerate!
I used to laugh when other people referred to this type of phone as a CrackBerry, but now I understand. Any other phone I‘ve ever had pales in comparison: The flip-ups. The slide-outs. The touch-everything-but-the-thing-you-need ones.
Android? Hell no. Alien was more like it. Then I found my BlackBerry. Rich, fruit of the vine. A true soul mate. Here’s looking at you, kid.