Wendell Sweet at Amazon Author Central

Wendell Sweet

Wendell Sweet
I was born in New York. I wrote my first fiction at age seventeen. I also write lyrics and record music. I also build video games and build my own 3D models for them…

What else…

I lost my cell phone and had to get a new one. This was bad because, one: I hate cell phones. Two: I hate cell phones. And Three: I secretly had hoped that the Mayans were right and by today I would be holding onto a rope waiting for the atmosphere to come back, so why would I even have to have a cell phone? I wouldn’t, except the Mayans were wrong. I’m still not over that…
In my defense, I was born in 1957. In 1957 there were no cell phones. My first memory of a phone was a party line. That’s where you got to listen into other peoples conversations as long as you could breath quietly and not giggle. You could not put your phone in your pocket and if you tried to you would most likely get some strange looks.
But all that did not bring my cell phone back so I went and got another. My son came to visit for the weekend so he was here to witness my triumph over Cell Phone technology. Well, he would have seen it, had it happened, but instead I spent three hours trying to set it up, transfer my number, and then it all failed.
I would like to take a second to comment about Mothers. Geeze. Sometimes they can be such smart alecs. Not that mine is. No.
“So, anyway,” my Mother says, “did you read the owners Manual?”
“Mom,” I said in my best talking to my mother voice, “Cell phones don’t have owner manuals.”
“Dad,” my son says, “It does.”
“Shhssh,” I say too late.
“Well,” Mom says very self righteously, “Maybe you should read it.”
So after I read the owners manual, this about hour three of the whole fiasco, once I finally got the manual open (Two words: Shrink Wrap) and what do you know, right there in black and white it says what to do. So I get the phone open, press a few buttons, go to the website, press a few more and it’s done.
About then I get a message on my new phone and I have to answer it. Except, wonder of wonders I don’t have a clue how to answer messages on a cell phone. How is that? I would prefer not to go into how technologically inept I am. Besides, I can write C and C++ and Java and HTML… Yes… All true, but I can not answer a message on a cell phone.
So mom says, “Maybe you should read the owners manual.” She is such a smart alec. My son says nothing. He has a man card and is unwilling to lose it and is smarter than me. I look at him and he just shrugs his shoulders and goes back to his laptop.
So I read the owners manual and the day was saved. Yes. The owners manual does actually have useful information in it including how to send a message. It took, I am not kidding, about a half an hour to send a little message that probably amounted to nothing at all in the scheme of things. I plugged the phone in to charge and that was that, except I was still mad at the Mayans and their faulty prophecies. If not for that whole fiasco I could’ve just forgotten about cell phones. I mean, right now I could be in that brave new world with some other survivors…

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