Dadmissions: IPhones Are For People Who Don’t Have Beepers

I had a beeper. No I wasn’t a drug dealer but I had a beeper. Remember the ones where it was so cool that you could pick the color of the beeper and they were kind of transparent so you could see the inside of the beeper? Yeh those. People who needed to reach me could beep me. I could then pull over at a pay phone (the same ones used by the drug dealers) to call them back. It was the best and the worst thing at the same time. There were no more excuses that you couldn’t be reached… only excuses that you couldn’t find a phone.

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Then I upgraded! Boom! I got a car phone. Really. I dumped the beeper. In the very early 90’s… in my blue Dodge Daytona that my friends teased me was really purple… that I got in high school with leftover bar mitzvah money… I had a cellular phone which was portable and plugged into the lighter of the car. Cars used to have lighters for people who smoked, you see. I drove a stick shift and had the car phone and somehow realized how to shift and steer and hold a phone with a squiggle cord at the same time.
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It wasn’t illegal back then. Don’t judge. I could call people from wherever and talk for thirty seconds until the signal dropped out. I could “roam” and then see random roaming charges on my bill. I was king of the world. But it was short lived. I cut the cord and went totally wireless… naked.
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I got the flip phone and then the Nokia phone and then the smaller Nokia phone and the still smaller Nokia phone. It was a cute phone.
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Then I got the Blackberry. Yeh baby! The Crackberry as it is affectionately known. First the really fat one… then the less fat one. I could type until my fingers bled and email and email and email at work and on the road and then at home again and again and again… always emailing and checking email… and emailing some more. I could try and load a website and watch the hourglass helplessly and desperately spin and spin and spin as it tried to load the website till I forgot why I wanted to go to that website in the first place. And I could take photos with my phone… picture after picture after picture that would be saved on a small card the size of my finger nail.
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Then people started getting the IPhone. They lined up like they were getting concert tickets. They waited and waited and waited. They’d pay other people to wait for them. I didn’t get it. I kept crackberrying and emailing like I had a big typewriter in my pocket… a huge Speak and Spell that I could still email on. I didn’t need no stinkin’ IPhone… And then I got one. Oh damnnnnn. Wowwwww. It’s so fast. The pics are so prettyyyyyy. Wowwww. I went to my happy place. People could text. People could sext. People could keep their entire music library on their phone and play games. Ohhh the games. And then came the next Iphone…. and the next Iphone…. (I’m still waiting for my parents to get me the Apple Macintosh I always wanted… that thing was so cute). Oh well. And I became a convert. And now I’m waiting to see what the next big thing will be.
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To all those people waiting in line for the iPhone today.. You can pay me to wait in line for you… I’ll beep you when I’m at the front of the line and you can dial me back on my car phone… If I can’t answer it’s because the cord isn’t long enough so just try and email my blackberry and I’ll wait for your text.

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About dadmissions

author of Dadmissions. surrounded by a wife and two girls... and a dog named Cupcake
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