When it comes to technology, I'm a complete moron.  I'm not too proud to admit that.  

Several years ago, my husband surprised me with an iPhone 4S for Christmas. Right off the bat, I hated “S.” I still can't say the word without it sounding like a growl. Siri. 

For 2 years I cursed her name, but became completely enamored with the phone that housed her. That is until my beloved phone began screwing with me.

I'm sure you can relate when I tell you that the majority of my life was in that phone. Everyone I know, both personally and professionally, have my iPhone to thank (or blame) that I'm able to call or text them, because they're in my contacts list. All of my massage clientele, as well as the schedule of their appointments, was in my calendar. Every Zumba song I've ever known, and the separate playlists for each of the locations I teach, were under my music app. And every thought, brainstorm, quote, and idea were listed in my notes for future writing projects. 

 

Yep, my entire career was in that phone.

So when that phone took on a mind of its own, began rearranging my playlists, blanking out my schedules, and randomly shutting down to "update" itself, I expect to be able to go to Verizon and trust that Tristan with the clipboard won't wipe away my entire identity and cancel my very existence on this earth.

One should never be so trusting. And one should never put herself into the hands of a salesman with a clipboard on the heels of half-price margaritas at Texas Roadhouse.

His first question seemed simple enough as he pointed to my 4S. 

 

"Is that cracked or broken?" 

 

I said, "Nope" as I beamed with pride at having managed to make it 2 years without cracking and/or breaking my cell phone, which must be a pretty big deal for him to even ask such a question. I've also managed to bring 4 kids into the world and they’re not cracked or broken either.

That's when he lowered the boom with his offer to buy back my phone for $200, in exchange for upgrading me to the iPhone 5S. The part of my brain that hadn't been impaired by margaritas smelled a trap, but before it could speak up, a voice said, "OK!"  Enter Ron, loving husband and designated driver. 

 

Tristan's face lit up as he picked up on my husband’s super-agreeable vibe. I quickly interrupted his salivating and said, "Wait a minute. I need a guarantee that I'm not going to lose any of my information in the transfer." He replied, "You'll get it all back! Just don't come beat me up if you don't." 

 

Aaaahhhh...Tristan with the clipboard has now picked up on my vibe, as well. 

Twenty minutes later, it was all said and done. My 4S sat on the counter, wiped clean of my entire life, and I walked out of Verizon the pissed off owner of a "new and improved" iPhone 5S, which required the purchase of an all new phone cover, wall charger and car charger, but was fully loaded with everything…that is, everything except my schedule, my notes, my Zumba songs, and my playlists-- for a grand total of $197.00. As an added bonus, my new phone didn't fit my Zumba speakers and I had to buy a $30 converter. 

Now. I'm no math wiz, but by my calculation, Tristan with the clipboard owed me $27.00, 118 Zumba songs, 47 story ideas, my professional reputation for having to call all of my massage clients asking if they had any appointments scheduled, the countless hours of my life it took to clean up this mess, and I’ll take his ass on a stick while I’m at it.

Bottom line; I was stuck with the new S and I wanted nothing more than to go back to Verizon and kick his.

So last spring, when I upgraded to the S6 and the salesman pointed to my S5 and asked,  "Is that cracked or broken?" my answer was simple.