CELL PHONE TRAGEDY

(This was recently sent to me by Sister K and is reprinted here with her permission.)

Last night as I was getting ready for bed, I placed my cell phone on top of the glass of water that I always have on my bedside table. The reason that I did such a foolish thing was that my cat always drinks the water out of my glass, and I thought it would be a good way to prevent this from happening. You guessed it....the phone fell into the glass of water.

I immediately fished the phone out of the water and dried it off, but it was too late. The damage had already occurred. The phone sounded a few half-hearted beeps and then did a flatline. It was dead as a door nail.

I frantically googled "phone water damage" and came up with quite a few interesting ways to solve the dilemma. One guy advised putting the phone into the microwave to dry out. Another said to drop it into a glass of alcohol, which would dry up the water and make the phone as good as new. Others advised putting it in a regular oven on the "low" setting or using the blow dryer on it. But the overwhelming advice was to place it in an airtight container of rice, which apparently will suck the moisture out of the phone. "Be sure to use uncooked rice as opposed to cooked rice" was one piece of advice. Duh......

Anyway, my phone is sitting in the rice as we speak and I'm waiting to see if this works. Otherwise I'll have to buy a new phone because apparently the Apple Store will not replace a phone damaged by water, even though it's still under warranty. This brings me to another interesting tidbit of information that I discovered while surfing.

The iPhone has a tiny hidden indicator that shows if it's been dropped in water. If you look into the hole where the headset can be connected, you'll see a white dot. The white dot turns red if it's been exposed to water. That way the Apple guys know if the phone really went haywire of its own accord, or if you dropped it into the Jacuzzi when you had one too many Manhattans. This brought up a whole new array of solutions (mostly unethical) for fixing the problem of the "red dot." Some said to put a drop of bleach into the hole, which will turn the dot back to white. Others advised using a toothpick with a little Liquid Paper on the end of it. According to these Youtubers, the guys at the Apple Store are so inept that they won't realize that Liquid Paper is covering the red dot, and you'll get a brand new phone out of the deal.

I'm not quite that depraved yet and so I'm waiting to see if the rice (uncooked, of course) remedy works.

I MUST INTRODUCE BRENDA TO SUNSHINE

There's nothing like a little Karma on a Monday afternoon to brighten one's day. Having survived my week of Kitchen Duty last week and manage to steer clear of Brenda after our run-in, I got to witness her making a complete fool of herself, not that I would ever take pleasure in that, of course.

It seems Brenda decided to make a pot of black coffee this afternoon and then ran back to her office to make a phone call. Unfortunately, she forgot to put the coffee pot back on the burner, causing scalding coffee to spill all over the kitchen floor. I happened to be walking past the kitchen door when this was unfolding and caught sight of her, mop in hand, cursing her stupidity. I couldn't help myself and blurted out "Gosh, I'm sure glad it isn't my week for Kitchen Duty. What a mess!" at which point Brenda looked up from her mop and just glared at me.

Call it Bad Karma or whatever, but after last week's derision I couldn't help but gloat.

I DIDN"T NEED THAT HOUR ANYWAY

In an effort to win Lorrie Veasey's fantastic contest: http://ournameisblog.blogspot.com/

I am adding my two cents about how the recent time change impacts my life and whether or not I like the concept in the first place. Or at least I think that was the assignment. Frankly, I'm punchy from loss-of-sleep so forgive me if I got it wrong. Wouldn't be the first time.

Mainly, this whole Spring Forward / Fall Back campaign used to be to help farmers gain time to bring in the harvest and milk sleepy cows or somesuch. Apparently, however, the farmers all know it's actually just a marketing stunt to get consumers to shop more. More recently, there was also a clever ploy by certain politicians to help in their re-election bids. Several of them got together to lobby for extending Daylight Savings hours and I'll be damned if they didn't succeed. Now it's almost perpetually light outside save for a few weeks in late Fall, early Winter. I don't think the cows much care, though.

On a personal level I actually like the concept of Springing Forward because it gives me more time for golf and sailing. I just wish they wouldn't be so fickle about the whole concept and take back the hour in the Fall. I would prefer permanently having that Spring Forward thing if it would allow me to really get my money's worth during "Twilight Golf".

Having said all that, I have the kind of job where I am (apparently) in charge of reminding our hourly paid employees that the clocks are either going forward or backward. I have to send out signage twice a year, to be posted next to the time clock, so everyone knows when to show up for work. I find this annoying, however, as no one reminds me when the clocks go forward or backward and when I'm supposed to report to my cube. I usually have to remind Paco and then we both end up forgetting about it just like this past weekend. We did not adjust clock one in our house before we turned in Saturday night. Fortunately, we had all day Sunday to change them before Monday rolled around and we risked being late for work. Oddly, his super-fantastic Ray Bradbury-inspired ATOMIC clock, the one that's supposed to automatically adjust based on the big and little hands at the U.S. Naval Observatory, stayed stuck in the past. So much for technology. I will stick with my little battery-operated model, even if it is solely up to me to remember to change it.

BACK TO REALITY

I agree with Lorrie (“Our name is blog”) that one of the best things about going on vacation is the seemingly endless blog-worthy material generated on these junkets. At least I think it’s blog-worthy. I suppose someone somewhere might not agree, but they don’t have to read my blog. I bet they don’t even have their own blog so I’m not too worried about their opinion. I have a tendency to worry what others think about me but as long as they remain anonymous I will continue to write unfettered. Like Rush Limbaugh, if I worried about what other people thought about me I would never leave the house. Having said that, I really do wish he would stay home.

Now to answer a couple of questions about my last post: no BJ, the photo on my post “Shakedown on the Dinghy Dock” was not Officer Prentice. He would not allow me to snap he photo being as how he is a Super Secret Port Authority Big Shot working the vice and terrorism beat on the Dinghy Dock in Nevis. So I did what any self-respecting blogger would do in need of an illustrative photo for their post: I stole it off the internet. The fact that it happened to be a photo of that somewhat confused and slightly effeminate patrolman from Reno 911 is not my problem. Paco recognized him immediately, which I find disturbing, but the therapist says not to worry. It’s probably just some middle-aged, curious faze. At any rate, Officer Prentice did not appear to be batting for the other team and his uniform was actually white, but otherwise the similarities were incredible.

Second, Kwr221 asked if I was in St Kitt’s last week when she was there and yes, I was! I can’t believe we were both on the same tiny island at the same time and there was not some kind of feeding frenzy from the reporter's pool there. I mean, doesn’t everyone in the Eastern Caribbean know who we are? Apparently Homeland Security knows exactly who Lorrie is and are ardent followers, so why wouldn’t the folks on St Kitt’s know about Kwr and me, too? Anyway, I’m sorry we didn’t hook up but if I gave out specifics in advance of all my vacation plans Paco and I would be inundated with paparazzi and we wouldn’t have any peace. Next time I will place a classified ad in the local newspaper with some cleverly worded clues revealing my plans, like “Yes, Mrs. Barnes, look for me in the window wearing the purple hat.” The more intrepid of my followers will no doubt be able to figure out my destination. No need to broadcast it.

Meanwhile, I will continue to fill my Steno pad with clever entries about my travels and try my best not to embelish them where possible. It's only when someone I meet is not very funny or interesting and therefore not potentially entertaining blog material that I have to get creative. Fortunately, for once Officer Prentice made my job as a blogger really easy.

SHAKE DOWN ON THE DINGY DOCK

Paco and I just returned from our annual sailing trip with our dear friends the Queens, visiting various exotic locales in search of the perfect wind, the perfect Pain Killer and the perfect holiday. We found something close to all three but hopefully perfection will continue to allude us, making it imperative that we continue to return year after year to resume our odyssey.

Meanwhile, we had many adventures, encounters and happy days plying the deep blue waters of the Caribbean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean, getting up close and personal with a whale, flying fish and sting rays, giant turtles and uber friendly dolphin. We also had a close encounter with a very distinguished-looking member of the Nevis Port Authority who reminded us that there are an infinite number of ways to shake down the tourists, even as you are professing to protect them from terrorists.

One afternoon Paco and I decided to take the little yellow dinghy that ferried us all between the boat and shore and do some sight-seeing. Because dinghys and their outboard motors are much-sought after by thieves, it has been drilled into us that you never, ever leave your dinghy unlocked and unattended lest it be made off with by the local bad guys. At around $4,ooo or so to replace, we take this business very seriously. So imagine our surprise and horror when, as we were tying up at the Dinghy Dock, we were stopped and told by none other than Officer Prentice of the Nevis Port Authority that we were not to lock our dinghy or else be subject to a stiff fine. The reasoning here, apparently, is that should Al Qaeda decide to launch an attack on the local Nevis population the Port Authority would need to immediately have the dock cleared of all water craft. No amount of reasoning, arguing, cajoling or shameless flirting would make Officer Prentice budge, so finally, reluctantly, we decided the only thing we could do was to carefully examine his laminated I.D. badge for signs of forgery, threaten to come after him if he allowed our dinghy to be stolen and then proceed with our sight-seeing. This decided, we started down the dock when Officer Prentice suddenly stopped us with one more piece of important business. It seemed that he was the founder, president and Chief Fund Raiser for a local organization that he had created to keep the teenage boys on the island from getting into mischief and presumably grow up to extort money from tourists. What a relief to know there was someone doing something about this alarming problem! Officer Prentice had taken on this personal, selfless and no-doubt onerous task in spite of the fact that it might, to some at least, appear to be a shameless effort to trade ‘favors’ like not having our dinghy stolen, for some good old fashioned cash. Of course, we were all ears hearing about his “charity” and asked him where on the island the charity’s headquarters were located so we could pop in to make a donation. It turned out that to save money on overhead Officer Prentice does all his business right there on the dinghy dock and is the only person authorized to take donations. At this point Paco and I sensed that making a donation to this worthy cause might ensure the safety of our dinghy, but there was no way to be sure and who wants to be shaken down anyway? At this juncture I decided to call his bluff but at the same time praise his efforts in the event that his authority on the dock was much more onerous than we were led to believe.

Me: “You know, Officer Prentice, that is such a wonderful thing you are doing for the boys here on the island. Obviously you devote all of your free time to helping keep them on the straight and narrow. Paco and I donate to several similar causes in the United States so we can surely relate to the importance of these kinds of programs. You are a wonderful role model and we thank you for your efforts. Have a wonderful day and thank you for looking after our dinghy. We know we are in good hands.”

Officer P: (looking extremely crestfallen and confused) “Madame, you are too kind and my efforts are but a tiny drop in the bucket of despair that threatens to deluge our tiny island here. Are you sure you won’t change your mind and make whatever contribution to my cause you feel comfortable with?”

Me: “We’re sure but thanks so much for asking. Have a wonderful day.”

Preparing ourselves for the worst yet not wanting to be shaken down by the local authorities in exchange for not having our dinghy ‘confiscated’ we reluctantly walked down the dock and headed towards town, convinced we would soon be out $4,000. As we turned the corner we spotted the Office of Tourism and decided to see if they had maps of town. On a hunch, I asked the clerk about Officer Prentice and his ‘charity’ and told him we were concerned about our dinghy. Picking up the office telephone, the clerk made a call to someone and after 5 minutes of hand waving and whispers, he announced that Officer Prentice was on the straight and narrow, at least as far as the safety of our dinghy. He could not vouch for the boy’s town aspect of the officer’s presentation but he felt sure we would not be robbed in lieu of making a donation. Somewhat pacified, we continued on our way and sure enough, several hours later when we returned to the dock there was our dinghy, safe and sound. It was by this time pouring down rain and Officer Prentice was no where to be found, no doubt looking out after his flock and doing other good deeds. As we were starting the outboard, however, he suddenly appeared, looking smart in his bright yellow rain slicker.

Officer P: “See, I told you your boat would be safe here.”

Paco: “Well, frankly I’m completely surprised that it is still here. I have to admit I was afraid it would be stolen.”

Officer P: “Sir, Nevis is the Island of Love. Have a nice day and we will see you next time.”

"How odd", Paco said as I turned the dinghy back out into the harbor, “The Island of Love? Officer P went from ominous and threatening to all warm and fuzzy in the space of a few hours. What happened? I was sure we would never see the dinghy again."

Perhaps, I mused, the fact that we treated him with respect even in the face of being shaken down struck a chord in him and he decided to leave our boat alone. He may not be the most trustworthy person on Nevis and Lord only knows if his charity really exists or not but in a strange way he renewed my faith in the basic goodness of people. Or maybe we did that in him because we gave him the benefit of the doubt. No need to tell him we still checked out his story at the Office of Tourism.

DELIVERANCE

I was just reading Lorrie's blog ("Our Name is Mud") and saw she had posted an "On Vacation" note there so her loyal readers will not think she is merely being lazy or had run off with her brother-in-law or something. Since Paco and I are also leaving this week on vacation I thought I would do some shameless plagurizing and let everyone know that I will be away from my post until the middle of next week (cat burglars take note).

Btw, thanks goes out to Lorrie for mentioning my blog as one to read in her absence. I am humbled and flattered. And thanks also to everyone who has hung in there with me over the last few weeks while I have not been posting as much as usual. I promise to return to my previous 2 - 3 posts a week upon my return. Paco and I are heading down to the islands to recharge our batteries and sample the local rum. Bon voyage for now!

THINGS ARE (still) TOUGH ALL OVER

Yesterday I squeezed in a quick pedi since my boss keeps me chained to my desk during the week. As some of you know, I have the Boss from Hell. But at least I have a job and as bad as it is much of the time I am not about to walk out. Not in this economy.

While sitting there minding my own business a group of early-30-something girls arrived, there to celebrate someone’s birthday. As hard as I tried not to eavesdrop on their conversation I was, after all, a captive audience, my toes being man-handled by Dan, so I ended up being privy to some interesting, if somewhat bizarre snippets of conversation...

Sissy: “My husband Jeff quit his job last Friday. He just did not get along with his boss. I don’t blame him for not wanting to continue to work in such a toxic environment. He gave them a month’s notice, though, which I thought was more than generous.”

Tiffany: “Oh Sissy, he was so right to do that. No one wants to have to go to work every day and be miserable.”

At this point my jaw had dropped, hearing that ANYONE in this economy would knowingly walk away from a job. Any job. I don’t care if you follow the elephants around with a big shovel at the circus, if you have a job these days how on earth could you voluntarily quit? I was flabbergasted, but there was more to come.

Sissy: “I told Jeff that maybe I should get a part-time job just until he decides what he wants to do next (obviously it’s not going to be as a brain surgeon). He doesn’t want me to work but agreed maybe it would be a good idea.”

Tiffany: “Oh Sissy, are you sure? I mean, like, that is so brave of you. Have you worked before, I mean, like, in an office or something?”

Sissy: “Well, I did some filing in my uncle’s office one summer. I was thinking I could do data entry one day a week. You know, for like, um, maybe 8 hours on Fridays. I actually have called some doctor’s offices and said I want to work part-time, but I haven’t had any takers. No one wants to hire me just for one day a week. I’m getting frustrated. Jeff said I should take a break from it so I don’t get upset or break a nail or something.”

At this point I decided to switch my water order with Dan to a glass of Chard. Maybe it would make me feel as carefree as Sissy and Tiffany. Not to mention Jeff.