At work on Friday, I dropped my phone, much like I have done a countless times before. But this time when it landed, it made a horrible crunching sound and I knew that couldn’t be good. I picked it up, flipped it over, and saw this:
My phone, affectionately named Scarlett, is a few weeks shy of three years old, which is 978,237,923,302 in phone years. I had just gotten her battery replaced in Dec (since there was a discount on battery replacements and my battery was absolute crap), so I was hoping to get another year out of her. Clearly, that is not meant to be.
I started debating whether I should stick with iPhone – the new ones are more than $1000 and I’m really not too keen on dropping a grand on a phone – or jump ship and get an Android. But then I was talking to a colleague about the bad day I was having (in addition to the phone smashing, a few other things weren’t going my way on Thursday), and she said, “Do you want my iPhone? It’s an 8 and I’ve only had it for year and I’m getting rid of it. I got it as a gift, so I wouldn’t feel right selling it, but I don’t like it and am switching back to my Android phone this weekend and if you don’t take it, it’s just going to sit there on a shelf.”
I was in complete disbelief that someone would be so generous, but she was insistent that she couldn’t sell it and if I didn’t take it, it would just sit there and she’d feel bad about it being wasted. So I just have to make it through this weekend with a phone on which I can’t read anything in the top right corner of the screen and that feels totally weird when you touch the screen.
In related news, I find it super weird that the touch screen works despite being smashed to bits.