The cool kids wanted Blackberrys, but I wasn’t one of the cool kids, and you suited me just fine. My first mobile, a brick of a phone, performed its role adequately; you were sleek by comparison, and had more features than I knew what to do with. A camera. A camera! A camera? And internet access–slow, and limited enough to make one nostalgic for a dial-up modem and AOL, but internet access all the same. Most intriguingly, the phone’s basic functions could be controlled by voice commands.
What really won me over, though, was your sheer competence. Your interface was so simple, I could navigate it without looking, and your slim frame belied your impressive durability. Everybody else seemed to salivate over the newest phones, but I turned down every upgrade; and each time one of my friends complained about glitches, I was thankful to know you had my back.
It’s been a good six years. I didn’t want to leave, but reception became so spotty that I could hardly make a phone call. My new phone is pretty flashy, but I want you to know that you’ll always have a special place in my heart. I’ll be by later for my contacts.
