My husband finally entered the world of smart phones when our oldest daughter gifted him an iPhone for Christmas. We, collectively as a family, thought it was time he bid adieu to his pocket-sized Samsung and joined the rest of us on the dark, fun side with our iPhones and Androids.
We were certain he would be thrilled with the ability to check his facebook, twitter and email accounts on the go (not to mention all the cool apps he could download) and since he is so technologically savvy, we didn’t foresee any problems with him adapting to his new toy phone. Unfortunately, we were wrong.
For the past few weeks, every time hubby’s iPhone beeps or dings, he is running to me holding it in the palm of his hand like a live grenade asking “What does this mean? What do I do with this?” It’s funny and annoying at the same time. Personally, I think he’s “pretending” to not know how to use his new phone in protest. See, he’s jealous of my love for my iPhone and is constantly telling me to keep it out of our room at night (never) and asking why I always have to answer ever ding and whistle (um, can you say important?).
It doesn’t help that the phone number he was given is one that apparently just became available. We know this because of the constant calls, texts and voicemails he is receiving for the previous phone number owner.
It started with a text message from a young lady who sent her picture all posed and sad-faced with her hand cradling the top of what appeared to be a pregnant belly. The text message read something to the effect of “Our child is gone. I never meant to tie you down, blah, blah, blah.” When hubby came to me asking what he should do I just looked at him and asked “Is there something you need to tell me?” We both laughed and laughed and laughed. I took the phone and texted this young woman back with “You’ve got the wrong number.” Apparently she did not believe me, as she called nine times one day and twelve the next and left three voicemails crying and carrying on begging the previous phone number owner to “call her back.”
Along with this young woman’s calls have been calls from schools, and a mailbox place threatening to destroy the previous owner’s mail if he did not pick it up by end of day (oops, mail go poof). The last straw, however, was yesterday when hubby was in the middle of doing our taxes and his iPhone kept beeping and whistling with text messages from strangers wishing him a Happy Martin Luther King Day; several with photos of President Barack Obama high-fiving Dr. Martin Luther King (obviously photo shopped). His annoyance had nothing to do with the sentiments but simply that he was extremely busy concentrating on getting our taxes done.
I called my daughter and asked her to contact the cell provider and ask for a new number. She called and explained the situation, which the representative found quite amusing, and he was given a new phone number, which the rep said has been out of use “for quite some time.”
I’m not sure his new number of 867-5309 has been out of service that long, because yesterday he received many calls for some chick named Jenny. Oh, well, I guess there’s nothing left for him to do but say “Jenny, I’ve got your number.”
When my oldest daughter was two years old, she loved the Dr. Seuss book The Cat in the Hat. She loved it so much, in fact, that for months on end my husband and I took turns reading it to her at bedtime. 
