When You Only Know Enough To Be Dangerous…

My boss recently updated his cellphone, and generous, thoughtful man that he is, he offered me the use of his old IPhone 4.  My first impulse was to accuse him of trying to coerce me over to the darkside.  Besides the fact that I’m decidedly not an Apple fan, I use a pay and talk plan and the massive credit I’ve amassed is an indication of how little I use my cellphone.  I rarely make calls or text, and I don’t see the need to surf the web on a teeny tiny screen when I can wait until I’m home and do it from the comfort of my wide-screen computer monitor.  I surely didn’t want the added expense of paying for a data plan, so a smart phone would be wasted on me.

But after consulting with Hubby (a completely brainwashed Apple cult follower, I mean, Apple fan), I hesitantly decided why not?  It has a much nicer camera in it than my old one does.  The keyboard is much easier to use for those occasional texts and if the need really arose, I can use free wifi to access the net on it.

So I went online to my provider’s website to switch the phones over and this was step one in realizing how little I do know about modern technology.  The website says I need to access the information stored behind the battery.  Where’s the battery on a IPhone?  No clue.  I call the family expert, my youngest son, and ask him.  “You need a SIM card,” he tells me.  Hmm, I look the phone over and try to determine where a SIM card would be located, if it had one.  No clue again.  I phone my provider.  We talk about lots of things, every single one only adding to my frustration level, but not a single one solving my problem.  Bottom line, she told me I needed a SIM card and when the plan was switched to get a data block or that nice little credit I’d amassed would quickly be eaten up.

Went to work yesterday and informed my boss I couldn’t switch it over because I needed a SIM card.  He explains that the phone has a SIM card, and he removes it to give me the ID number.  I go back onto my provider’s website and punch in the SIM card number.  A message comes up saying the card is already in use.  Frustration growing, I go back to my boss and tell him this.  “Oh,” he says, “it must be registered to my new phone.  I’m using the SIM card from the old phone.”  Totally don’t understand what that means, I don’t even know what a SIM card’s function is.  We decide to call in the pros and phone our local dealer.  No, not drug dealer, although right about then I could’ve used a little something to calm the nerves.  We call the company we have our mobility account with and they say I need a new SIM card.  Cost $10.  They can also do the switch for me for $15.  My boss tells me the SIM card should be free because of our plan and to go down there and pay the $15 to have them take care of it.  So I do.

To the best of my ability (seeing how I have no clear idea what I’m talking about) I explain to the girl behind the desk what I’ve done and what I need done.  I tell her that the SIM card should be free and so should the data block.  I don’t mention anything about the $15 for the transfer.  She looks all annoyed and tells me it’s not free to transfer between phones and she doesn’t know who told me it was, but she’d do it this once.  I didn’t ask for that, but, hey, bonus.

Three SIM cards later, she still can’t get the phone to work and she’s really becoming annoyed.  She can’t activate the data block either which requires a phone call to fix.  Suddenly she’s all smiles—the phone works.  Life is once again good.  I purchase an adorable bright pink protective cover (call me paranoid but I can just see me dropping the phone and it shattering into a million expensive pieces) which she installs on the phone for me and I return to work with only a slightly maniacal smile on my face.

I spend the evening pushing every single button, learning everything I possibly can about this foreign object.  I put in all my contacts, accidentally calling a few people in the process, one of them being my boss.  Oops.  Accidentally face timed my youngest son too.  Oh the joys of learning with a touch screen.

I got a call from my boss this morning.  No, he wasn’t ticked about me calling him (on his birthday yet) and hanging up.  He thought he should let me know all my contacts were now his contacts.  As payback, he gave me a few new contacts, such as Kate Middleton, Dr Phil, Oprah.  And the contacts of his I’d deleted (thank goodness it was only a couple) were now gone from his phone too. OMG!!  What neither of us knew is the two phones are connected by ICloud.  What happens on one affects the other.  I had kind of wondered when I saw a photo he’d taken yesterday show up on my phone and when Hubby confessed that he was behind the silly message (Kiss your husband frequently) that mysteriously showed up on both my boss’s and my phone.  So frickin’ weird and completely beyond my limited comprehension.  My boss suggested Hubby back up everything on the phone onto his IMac and then disconnect the phone from ICloud and reinstall what he’d backed up.  I was very, very apprehensive about this, we’re talking lots of apps and almost 300 contacts.  But Hubby thought he could do it, so I let him.

We all know where this is headed, right?  About an hour later, Hubby comes upstairs looking a little uneasy.  First words out of him are, “All is not lost.”  I take a couple of deep breaths and try not to panic.  Because, basically, all is lost.  Every added app, every contact, every setting.  I can’t be angry with my poor hubby, he feels beyond horrible.

I’ve texted my boss to tell him what happened.  On Monday we’ll try connecting my phone back up to the ICloud and see if we can restore it all.  I have no understanding of ICloud so don’t know if it’s possible.  Not sure how much the boss understands about it either, but it must be more than me, and most likely, more than Hubby too.

Meanwhile, my pink phone sure looks pretty.

1301-7 IPhone

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