I’ve had a smart phone for about a month.
I have no doubt it’s highly intelligent. It can get online in an instant, locate me in time and space much better than I can, and tell me what restaurants are nearby (even what Indian or mideastern restaurants are nearby, if I choose to get particular).
Phoning is the least of what it does. In fact, I doubt I’ve tapped into 1/100th of its nearly boundless potential, and probably never will.
I use one of the ringtones the phone has thoughtfully provided. I haven’t added any apps (I’m not sure I totally understand what an app is). I don’t text. I took a few photos and videos but have yet to figure out how to upload them to my computer. And my fat fingers (they’re not really fat, but they lack the fine motor finesse that the young have perfected through countless hours of practicing almost from birth) seem to stumble around and set off strange commands that cause the phone to go to unknown pages or to perform arcane and unwanted tasks.
It’s not just my fingers that seem to have a mind of their own when interfacing with my brilliant phone. It’s the phone itself that makes decisions on its own. It appears to be a chatty sort—and a morning person—because every now and then it decides to call up an acquaintance of mine and have some fun.
Yesterday a friend emailed me to ask why I’d called her at 6:30 AM. While I slept, my phone had taken matters into its own hands and dialed her up.
And this is not an isolated incident. I once watched as my phone, which had sat untouched on a counter for several hours, spontaneously made a call. I have no explanation for said activity, except perhaps an unseen tremor in the forcefield.
Those of you who are more conversant with these things and how they work—and my guess is that that would include most of you—might be able to shed some light on the subject, before my phone’s harassing ways cause me to lose all the friends I ever had.