It all started with dropping my old cell phone on a walk in the evening, not that this hasn't happened before. But this time, it tore off the top hinges. I wasn't heart broken about it, as I've been thinking it's time for a change.
So, in the late morning/early afternoon, I scrambled as fast as any senior could after beginning with me time and God time, that is, reading and meditation. I knew I'd like to, at least, get out to the mall/strip mall and shopping area at daylight. But then, there was somebody pretending to be a computer helper to get me out of a jammed computer, which they'd jammed, first, to charge me 250, so I said, wait a minute, you're going to charge me $250?; no thanks, I've got my own computer expert. I learned later from Bill that it's a jam scam. And also, there was still the nagging grocery list.
But on the way, it occurred to me that a GPS was something I'd been considering for quite awhile. I explained to the sales guy that I did not want a smart phone, but I did want a GPS. He hinted that people of my generation didn't want to be bothered with tech stuff all the time, and I agreed: "We old people want to leave all that stuff at home and get away from it when were away from home." He showed me the phones, and of the less expensive trio, I wanted one which had a pull-out keyboard, so I wouldn't have to continually pound one key several times for one letter, number, or symbol.
When it came to the GPS, he certainly was impressed with all the things you could connect to, as it was a tablet, and now, it was on sale. I wasn't particularly impressed with all the frills. Those same frills are on my reader, provided there's a WiFi, if I choose to use them. I just wanted to not get lost.
Okay, mission accomplished as expense upon expense grew. Now, I had a cell phone and GPS I did not yet know how to operate, at least, in the case of the phone, not very well. I asked the next sales guy who had to take over if there were instructions. The first one had said there was a very small book for the phone. The second one said that, no, they don't usually include instructions, as most customers have similar things to operate, and they don't need them, insulting me, without intention? I don't think so, now that I've discovered the instructions in the box, he unlike the first one, didn't care if I had them or not.
I clumsily called my husband through trial and error on the phone to tell him since I was already "out here", I had something else to investigate, a microphone attachment for my cassette recorder, yes, that's what it is. After walking the entire length of the mall, I asked a game shop if Radio Shack was still there. Answer: it no longer exists. That's where I'd gotten the "museum piece". She directed me over to Best Buy for a mic. The Best Buy guy looked and said they used to have mics, but no longer, then, directed me to Meijer Music, which was just behind the Verizon Wireless I'd inhabited for two hours in the first place. There, she gathered together all the stuff I needed, but no adapter. I didn't want to spend all that money with no adapter. Then, I asked about cassette tapes, and her response was, look online, or maybe, one of those "antique" stores. "Antique?!!!" I responded.
When the later-than-usual grocery trip came after we ate, not before, I couldn't help but check the audio stuff on the way out. Right. No tape cassettes or cassette recorders, just like she'd said. But there it was, a "record player turn table"; What a cool thing the techies just invented to turn those large vinyl cds with gaps between the grooves of the songs! Maybe, the techies will come up with a cassette player next, where you insert tapes, instead of talking into a teeny-tiny voice recorder I have not yet learned to operate after two years.
But in regards to the girl who said I could go to the antique store, I got the last laugh. I did look online, as she advised, and found out our neighboring WalMart had them, and lo, there they were right in the store. I already had two, so I bought eight more, just in case they go extinct.
