Sometimes you have to turn it off

by Nellie Curtiss …

My oversized mobile kept making mistakes when I tweeted or posted on Twitter and Facebook. Forget Instagram or TikTok. An “A” became “S” and the overseer Siri couldn’t respond to my pleas, “Siri, where is my phone?” “Siri, reboot my phone.”

If the technology quit loading, I had to turn it off and on again. Thankfully, AT&T sent me an offer that I couldn’t refuse.  If I traded in my old phone, I’d get a new phone with all the bells and cinematic captures that I could handle.

I made a call.  She explained this plan, that plan, keeping my current plan, trading in my plan, and maintaining my retirement discount. I asked, “What did you say?” “What do you mean?” “Say again, please?” Then the legal agreements crashed my brain. After an hour, I had a new phone ordered that I was promised would be the same size as the phone I was trading in, consistent calling plan plus discounts; plus, “All apps will transfer, no problem,” she said.

When the phone arrived two days later, I found it as pretty as advertised; the phone was a blank slate. More than that, it was tiny. I estimate it was half the size of my would-be trade-in.

About 24 hours later, the new phone still wasn’t activated. After trying and retrying, following directions on the insert, then following directions on Google for activating a phone, the old phone was backed up to my supersized iCloud. All was good for about thirty seconds. Then I tried the next step, to transfer data to the new phone.

After tapping “Let’s get started,” I thought all the angst would be vanquished. When I lifted the phone up, “Hello” scribbled across the face. First it wanted to know what language, French, English, Chinese, Russian, Spanish? After scrolling through 105 countries, I backtracked a bit to find United States. First hurdle cleared. 

Then, face recognition.  Turn your head to left, then slowly to the right, up and down. There, the phone captured all my third chin, tired eyes and hidden third eye. Forget scanning with a mask, however.

I thought this new phone was too small for my crumpled hands to hold. “I can’t let this phone win.” So, I lifted the mobile to see the apps. “Ah, it looks like it’s all here.”  On closer inspection alas, nope. Medical. apps, and other-than-Apple applications were missing. I couldn’t believe it. Really? After 24 hours, even Siri didn’t know where the other apps were.

So, I called the carrier. In tears, I explained my anxiety trying to activate a new phone and how important it was to have all my data.  LB said, “I can help.” He listened and calmly walked me through each step.  At one point, he said “Instead of automatic activate, choose manually activate.”   

There was a voice asking to restart, and LB told me to say, “Yes.” The very second I said, “Yes,” the line was dead, and the young man walking me through the crag mire of activating a tiny phone was gone. It was like Q on Star Trek Picard had vanished him.

Nevertheless, the tiny phone came to life and all the apps were there.  After using the phone for an hour, I decided it wasn’t as ordered. The size was not the same size as originally promised.

I ordered an exchange. They understood. Within a few days the bigger, brighter version arrived.  I followed all the remembered directions to transfer data from tiny to max. Within 20 minutes, the process completed. The phone alerted, asked me if I was sure I wanted to deactivate old and activate new. I tapped “Yes.”

The gold phone restarted. All the apps were there lining up like little orange trees in an orchard. I just had to pick one. When I pressed the phone app to make a call, “Unable to call” popped up. I tried the message app and that wasn’t working either. I tried this and that, then that and this. Now, I was dismayed. I couldn’t reach the help desk; I couldn’t reach anybody.

Pulling up Google, I searched “Problems with phone activation.” Listed fifth down was “Sometimes you need to just turn it off and on again.” For this new phone, I learned, buttons on left and right must simultaneously be held down (who knew?); I tried it.

Life is like this. “Sometimes you just have to reboot.” Or, “Sometimes you have to turn it off and on.”