Sorry Smart Phone
“I am so sorry, Smarty. It was all supposed to go so well too. Waiting for days for you to arrive, and then in you walked with your shiny silver suit on and smiling at me as you were all ready to set me on the way to months of good fun. But you had not been warned about my total lack of expertise.
“Firstly I found I couldn’t send any of the texts I wanted. My shorthand text spelling was totally unintelligible to anyone but me, and then with difficulty. But the really unfair bit was the way my friends blamed you. ‘Not much of a phone you’ve got there if you can’t even text with it!’ Honestly I really did try.
“Then there was the farce of my photography. Bent into extraordinary postures while holding you at all the wrong angles I produced fuzzy images of the river at sunset near our home. The zoom was too close or too far, the shakiness of my hand made the street lamps wave, and some pictures were even upside down or sideways. I felt I was letting you down because your manual promised you’d make an ace photographer of me in a week. I’m sure you tried.
“Then there were the straight forward calls. At first I could call people okay but my economics were all wrong. After a couple of weeks I signed up to a stupid plan and a fortnight later I found I had to phone ten hours a day up to the end of the month! Well nobody has that many friends or contacts. Yes, I know YOU have now, but I haven’t! Who were half those people I didn’t know and still don’t?
“But you never gave up. You told me I could email using you and you were right. But I have three email addresses and I got them mixed up and nearly choked to death on a diet of spam until I binned the lot!
“Dear Smarty . Thank you for playing your part so well and trying to make life easier, faster, happier and full of more friends for me. I know how hard you tried. It was my fault you failed. But I can still get a lot of enjoyment out of just looking at you as I take you out of my pocket and you glint in the sunlight.
But I’m afraid dear friend, that your mission will never be accomplished. I am well into my seventies and by the time I have mastered even half the things you can do you’ll be out of date and I’ll be six foot underground. But I have one consolation to look forward to. When my time does come, instead of hearing the last trump I shall just be soothed by the beautiful dulcet sound of your soft ring tone calling me home to my maker. Thanks a million, Smarty, and I do apologise.”