An Embarrassing Story About a Phone

But then something happened that proves we're masters at complicating simplicity...

At first, I barely noticed the changes.

But as time wore on, charging got persnickety.  You had to jigger the connecting piece in just the right way.

With each passing week, I was forced to learn new angles to prop it.

I'd lean it against a Kleenex box ... stack it on a pile of Post-it notes ... or sandwich it between two books. 

The slightest shift would plunge it back into the powerless abyss.

I learned to live with the inconvenience.

It's not that big of a deal, I told myself.

It became the new normal. Isn't it odd how that happens?

Fast forward to last week: I picked up my phone as I headed out the door.  

It was deader than the flip phone sitting in a box in my garage labeled, "Electronic recycling" ... all because of this charging gymnastics routine.

That does it! I thought.  I give up.

So I went to the Verizon store, resigned to buying a new phone.

I explained my charging troubles to Brian, the store associate.

While I talked a lot of words, he looked at my phone impassively, like a doctor hearing about someone's WebMD diagnosis.

Finally, he'd heard enough.

"Wait here," he said.

Without a word, he disappeared into the back room and returned with a small air blower — you know, one of those compressed air cans that IT people always seem to have handy.

He blasted away in spurts, turning the phone this way and that, manipulating the blower with casual competence.  He was Tom Cruise in "Cocktail" doing that showy bottle-flip thing without even looking.

In less than five minutes, he cleared out the dust from the charging port.

And just like that, something that had been "broken" for months was suddenly... fixed.

I stood there, stunned and a little embarrassed.

"That's IT?" I said. "That's all it was?"

For months, I'd balanced my phone at bizarre angles, created makeshift props, and planned my day around lengthy charging sessions — all to avoid what I assumed would be an expensive replacement.

Now, the charger clicks in smoothly every time.

I had to unlearn the whole Kleenex box routine; the little lightning bolt now just appeared instantly.  BEE-loop!

What I thought would cost hundreds of dollars was solved in minutes for free.

"How much do I owe you?" I asked Brian.

He waved me away without being smug about it.

The whole thing taught me three things:

1. We all have a "charging port" in our lives—something that seems broken but might have a simple solution.
   
   
2. The longer we put up with it, the more normal our workarounds feel.
   
   
3. Sometimes, it takes someone else to point out the obvious—or fix it for us.

It was pointed out to me that I was so busy over the holidays I forgot about you, my valuable customer.

I hope you can forgive me for not emailing you before and during the holidays and you come back to the best sheepskin slippers and Peruvian alpaca garments.

I hear it just about every day ... from of all people, my wife. She is bored and wants to ship you a new pair of slippers or just a steering wheel cover.

But if I can extend the metaphor one paragraph longer: You, our customer, is like a charging port — it needs regular connection to work properly.

So look, it's the beginning of a new year...

Will this be the year you fix what you didn't in 2024.

Dennis

P.S. Watch your in box for my next adventure.