It started off as usual, the morning routine, the commute to work, the office tasks, with the only thing unusual being a trip to the employee clinic where I get allergy shots. Nothing exciting around there – that’s for sure.
I left the building to walk across the street to the clinic. As I stood waiting for the light to change, I noticed a black cloud in the far distance.
“Looks as if we might get some rain,” commented an elderly gentleman also waiting for the light.
“I was thinking the same thing.” I agreed.
“No point in going back for an umbrella as far away as that cloud is,” though I vaguely remembered something about thunder showers on the TV weather that morning.
I signed in at the clinic and sat down to wait. Others people came in mumbling about how dark it looked outside. I began to get a bit nervous. “I wish they would hurry up so I can get out of here before the rain comes.”
It was only a matter of minutes, but it seemed like hours before they finally called my name. As soon as I was done, I headed back, in spite of the fact that I was supposed to wait for 20 minutes before leaving. I didn’t have 2 minutes to spare, much less 20.
When I came to the glass doors going outside, I couldn’t believe my eyes. In a matter of mere minutes, the bright sun was gone and an ominous darkness prevailed.
I better run.
I hurried, certain I still had time to make it back before the rain began – certain but wrong. I got to middle of the street and the bottom fell out. The rain began to pour. I ran to the closest building and huddled in the doorway with all the other people huddled there.
“I can’t stand here forever. It could be hours until it decides to stop.” I decided to make a dash for it.
Lightning flashed and thunder crashed. The rain began blowing in sheets. I could feel it soaking my shirt and my shoes were swamped. Water was trickling into my eyes and as I brushed it away, I realized my hair was soaked.
Why didn’t I wait? Why didn’t I take an early lunch hour and stay until the rain stopped? A monsoon poured down on me. It must be a tsunami. That much water couldn’t come from the sky.
My hair was dripping, my clothes drenched, even my underwear was wet.
The security guard gave me a suspicious eye but let me pass when I got back. I tried to sneak onto the elevator, but wouldn’t you just know that someone who knew me would get on.
“Gee,” she commented, “Was it really that important to get back to work?”
“I love this place,” I said sarcastically. “Can’t keep me away.”
I sneaked into the ladies room where I tried to dry my hair with paper towels. It was pretty hopeless. I was going to be wet for a while. I returned to my desk and no one seemed to even notice. Hard to believe how involved people are in their own lives.
I remembered the tee shirt in my drawer, the dry tee shirt that I brought for emergencies like coffee spills. If this isn’t an emergency, I don’t know what is. The dry shirt helped a lot, and so did the sweater that I keep around for chills.
My hair began to dry. My polyester pants had not absorbed to much water.
A co-worker came by. “You won’t believe what happened to me,” she said. “I got caught in the rain. I had to go in the drugstore and buy an umbrella.”
Seems I’m not the only one around here that misjudged the cloud. She didn’t look very wet. Should I tell her what happened to me?
Nah, I didn’t want to steal her thunder.
Copyright 2010 Sheila Moss
“Open it.” He said, handing me a small box.
It isn’t my birthday and it is too early for Christmas. The box had an apple with a bite out of it on front. Even I knew what that logo meant. And when I opened it, there it was — a shiny new black iPhone.
I’ve never really been a gadget person. Some people have to have the newest and latest electronic item as soon as it is released. When the iPhone first came out, we had to go to the Apple store and stand in line with the other early innovaters so Honey could get one on the first day.
But here it was, the future staring me right in the face — ready or not.
The guy at the phone store had transferred my phone directory already and had it ready to go. Go where, I wasn’t quite sure. I figured turning it on was a good place to start. I pushed the only button and the phone came to life. “Slide to start,” it said on the phone, so I did and up popped a screen like a mini computer.
“Where’s the owner’s manual?” I asked.
“That little 10 page pamphlet?” How hard can it be if it takes only 10 tiny pages to explain? They seemed to assume you were somewhat technically savvy. Like most computer manuals, it didn’t make much sense. I decided to try and figure it out myself and things went better.
I found a tiny keyboard where I could type text messages or email. But the keys were so tiny and my fingers so large. I could not get it to type the right letters. After typing the letter before, the letter after, and the letter above, I finally figured out that if I lined a key up with my hangnail, it would type the right letter. This is going to be some slow going, I thought.
I found out the browser is called Safari, not Internet Explorer. You can tell I’m not an Apple person. Anyhow, I was able to check my email with the help of my hangnail and the backspace.
I really didn’t see the point when I had a computer at home with a screen big enough to see. I supposed I would learn to love it. Everyone else seems to. And Honey was so pleased with himself for thinking of it that I couldn’t disappoint him by being too dumb to use it.
I eventually figured out how to make a call with it. Sometimes I hit the wrong name in the directory, and had to explain I was breaking in a new phone.
I finally figured out how to make the tiny web pages large enough to read, though it really seemed like more trouble than it was worth unless you are really desperate to read a web page. Actually, I learned this from the TV commercial which showed how to pull it in two different directions to enlarge.
“Can I borrow your iPhone?” asked my grandson when he found out I had one.
“What for?” I asked.
“My friend and I want to make a video.” he said.
I knew it had a camera, but this thing makes videos? I finally figured out that feature. At least I am as smart as a fifth grader.
And now, 10 years after the fact and many iPhones later, I’m as addicted to an iPhone as everyone else and can’t imagine life without one.
Copyright 2000 Sheila Moss
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