Last Sunday, I came to school around 5:40 p.m. to do some reading and preparing for my always-crazy week. I stopped in the bathroom because I had just come from eating lunch and then having coffee with some friends and I did what I apparently do about every nine months: I dropped my phone in the toilet. At least this time I didn't watch it gurgle. My reflexes were a little better. I snatched it out and washed it and it was working perfectly until I took the battery out to dry out its little compartment and then it wouldn't come back on. For some reason, this made me frantic. Last May when I dropped my phone into a toilet, I was calm. I lived without a phone for a few days. This time I needed a new one. Immediately.
I ran ran ran over to the nearest store, which was to close at 7 p.m. What I wanted from them was not a new phone but a little screwdriver to open up the back of the phone and dry things out inside. The two behind the help counter looked at me blankly and said, "We don't open phones."
"But," I said, "surely you have a little screwdriver?"
The woman looked up my phone number and said, "You have insurance. You could get a new phone."
"Doesn't that still cost $50?" I asked. "Because I know this is New York and $50 may not seem like that much money to you, but it is a lot of money to me and if I can avoid paying it by fixing this phone, I would rather fix this one."
They kept looking at me without expression. "You could try [big chain store selling electronics]," the guy finally said. "I know they sell little screwdrivers."
I ran to the big electronics store, where multiple people informed me they sell nothing like little screwdrivers. I tried a drugstore. Then I went back to the phone store, where I am afraid I was slightly testy because I felt like they had sent me to the chain store just to get rid of me. "They do not sell little screwdrivers at [big chain store selling electronics]." I told the man.
He looked at me blankly. This blankness is a particular talent of customer (dis)service in New York and it is infuriating. Maddening.
Essentially, I had to get a new phone. I was eligible for a free one because my contract was up, so I got a new one. It can be returned within 15 days.
When I got home, I put the old one on the heater. After a day or two, it started working again.
Unfortunately, I love the new phone. I had always hated the old one. It was the cheapest one they had and I bought it at full retail price after the previous phone-in-toilet fiasco. The menus on it were terribly illogical and the display was hideous. I kind of want to keep the new free one.
But as I was walking to school today for (once again) studying and preparing for the insanity of the next week, I started thinking about how disposable things are here. In Liberia last summer, I broke my sandal and instead of throwing it away, I gave it to someone in the office, who took it off somewhere and reappeared an hour later with a fixed sandal. My phone stopped working and I bought a new one, but I gave the old one to a coworker, who got it fixed for $10 and then had a phone. I miss being in a place where people bother to fix things that break.
I ran ran ran over to the nearest store, which was to close at 7 p.m. What I wanted from them was not a new phone but a little screwdriver to open up the back of the phone and dry things out inside. The two behind the help counter looked at me blankly and said, "We don't open phones."
"But," I said, "surely you have a little screwdriver?"
The woman looked up my phone number and said, "You have insurance. You could get a new phone."
"Doesn't that still cost $50?" I asked. "Because I know this is New York and $50 may not seem like that much money to you, but it is a lot of money to me and if I can avoid paying it by fixing this phone, I would rather fix this one."
They kept looking at me without expression. "You could try [big chain store selling electronics]," the guy finally said. "I know they sell little screwdrivers."
I ran to the big electronics store, where multiple people informed me they sell nothing like little screwdrivers. I tried a drugstore. Then I went back to the phone store, where I am afraid I was slightly testy because I felt like they had sent me to the chain store just to get rid of me. "They do not sell little screwdrivers at [big chain store selling electronics]." I told the man.
He looked at me blankly. This blankness is a particular talent of customer (dis)service in New York and it is infuriating. Maddening.
Essentially, I had to get a new phone. I was eligible for a free one because my contract was up, so I got a new one. It can be returned within 15 days.
When I got home, I put the old one on the heater. After a day or two, it started working again.
Unfortunately, I love the new phone. I had always hated the old one. It was the cheapest one they had and I bought it at full retail price after the previous phone-in-toilet fiasco. The menus on it were terribly illogical and the display was hideous. I kind of want to keep the new free one.
But as I was walking to school today for (once again) studying and preparing for the insanity of the next week, I started thinking about how disposable things are here. In Liberia last summer, I broke my sandal and instead of throwing it away, I gave it to someone in the office, who took it off somewhere and reappeared an hour later with a fixed sandal. My phone stopped working and I bought a new one, but I gave the old one to a coworker, who got it fixed for $10 and then had a phone. I miss being in a place where people bother to fix things that break.
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