"I'm excited about your birthday present," my husband said to me, holding up a small Fedex package with a bow attached, wearing the same expression as last year when he handed me my new gutter irrigation system. "It's something you can use," he said, "to make your life easier." No way could that package hold an overweight Russian nanny named Svetlana who loves Chuck E Cheese and cleaning toilets. I wasn't buying it.
"It's a Bluetooth!" he exclaimed as I stared at this odd little black device that looked like a plastic roach. "You put it on your ear. It's so you can talk on your cell phone without using your hands!" His face flushed in excitement. "This way you can carry the groceries while you talk!" What a kind man - to be so concerned with my welfare. I knew he was still mad at having to fish my cell phone out of the toilet. I'm not technologically savvy, but I must admit that the idea of being able to make calls without using my hands was appealing. Even if he did have to spend an hour explaining how it worked.
"Does it play music?" I asked, turning it over.
"No, sweetie, you can't download music on it," he said with a condescending smile.
"What about TV channels? Will it get American Idol?"
"No, you can't get American Idol. It's a phone." He gritted his teeth.
"What about GPS like in the commercial? Can it give me directions in my ear? That would be really cool."
He looked at me like he didn't recognize me and spoke really slow. "It's Bluetooth. You use it to talk on the phone without using your hands. That's it."
"Oh."
It was weird at first, having this device in my ear. It didn't look right with my hair or any of my outfits. And it was so light that I'd accidentally brush against it and once I thought it was a roach and swore I felt it move and I screamed and almost ran the car into a homeless guy. But somewhere along the way I started to enjoy the benefits of modern technology. I liked the looks I would get from people who figured I must be somebody important. I began to wear it everywhere - the drugstore, the doctor's office, the gas station. Suddenly I couldn't wait for the phone to ring so that I could now do sixteen things at once instead of the mere fourteen I was limited to before owning this life saving device.
Three days I wore that thing and not one call, except for the Verizon telemarketer who has now removed me from his calling list because I kept him on the phone for thirty minutes while I tested all the features. "Okay, now let me call you this time and practice putting you on hold. If we disconnect, call me back. And I still want to try this button to the right. Ooh, here's the volume. Now this is cool, can you call me again and this time put me on hold? What about Fred in the cubicle beside you? Can we bring him on again? Okay, can you hear me now? Get it? Hear me now? That is you guys isn't it?"
Now I understand what all those people were doing - talking to themselves in cars with both hands still on the wheel - chatting at empty walls in airports. The cute guy I thought was hitting on me and the lady I chatted with all the way from auto parts to cat litter. No wonder she kept giving me weird looks. I thought those people were a little touched and added them to my prayer list. But they weren't crazy - except for the lady brushing her stuffed dog - pretty sure she was the exception. Now that I owned a Bluetooth I worried that people would think I was talking to myself, until I realized I talked to myself before I owned Bluetooth so this device would actually give me more credibility. I finally had an excuse. Ninety percent of the time I talked, the thing wasn't even turned on.
I try to be a polite Bluetooth user but I have an annoying habit of yelling when I talk on my Bluetooth. I can't explain it, but something about that device makes me think anyone who calls me is deaf. Turns out my Bluetooth is voice-activated to recognize verbal commands which I also feel compelled to yell. My Bluetooth and I have a love hate relationship. When we're good, we're really good. When we're bad, it's not pretty.
I was so excited about the voice activation feature that I spent the entire first day yelling commands: CALL MOM - CALL BILL AT WORK - CALL THE POST OFFICE - CALL VOICE MAIL. I would get distracted and while waiting for change at McDonald's yell, "CALL HOME" to the complexion-challenged red-head who was still mad at me for yelling "CALL 911." At first it was cool to talk to my Bluetooth - with the exception of that little incident where I was so busy talking I knocked over a display rack of pantyhose. Yeah, it was fun at first. Not so much anymore. Mainly, because I am from the south and apparently my Bluetooth isn't. We seem to have a verbal disconnect. I think she (yes, she) gets mad because I yell and call my voice mail every hour for no other reason than just to play with the device. And I think every so often she gets into a bad mood and just wants to remind me who's in charge.
"CALL HOME PLEASE," I yell, deciding to check my messages for the third time in an hour. Oops. Not turned on. Okay, let's try again.
Bleep. "Please enter your command," she says for the fourth time that day. I swear I hear her sigh.
"CALL HOME PLEASE," I yell, a little louder this time.
"Did you say, call police?" she asks sweetly.
"NO, I SAID CALL HOME PLEASE!"
"Did you say, call Belize?"
"NO! HOME, CALL HOME!"
"Did you say, call Shalome?" she asks.
"NO! AND WHO WOULD YOU CALL ANYWAY? WHO IS SHALOME? I SAID CALL HOME. H-O-M-E - HOME. CALL HOME!"
"Did you say call Rome?" she asks.
"NO! I DIDN'T SAY CALL ROME, I SAID CALL HOME!"
"Calling Rome, please wait," she says. I swear she's smirking.
I hang up, debating whether or not to try it again. Yes. It is now a matter of principle.
Bleep. "Please enter your command," she says for the fifth time that day.
"Call home," I say in my best northern accent, trying to disguise my voice.
"I'm sorry. Could you repeat your command?"
"OH FORGET IT! I'LL JUST DIAL THE STUPID NUMBER MYSELF!"
"About time," she whispers.
Thank you dear hubby for my new toy. I thought road rage was my anger threshold. Nice to see that the bar has now been raised. Thank you for the gift intended to make my life easier.
(PS: And for the record, your calls are not free when you use your Bluetooth - especially during something called peak hours. My husband says he'll explain it to me when he's calmed down.)
Kelly Swanson
Staying on the funny side...
[http://www.kellyswanson.net]
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