Smart Phone, Dumb Upgrade

I used to think that one of the most feared phrases in the English language was “I’m from the government and I’m here to help.”

The above statement and the unpleasant and mind-numbing ramifications that are almost certain to follow are enough to make the average citizen cringe.

With good reason and certainly not without precedent.

But recently I came across another that makes me want to retreat faster than Cujo’s veterinarian.

I was working in my home office minding my own business when the corporate line rang. On the other end was a sultry sounding woman from a global communications carrier who purred that I was “currently eligible for a smart phone upgrade.” Since the majority of the folks I speak with sound more like the chairman of the local Kiwanis Club as opposed Kathleen Turner in “Body Heat,” I happily allowed the pitch to continue.

Now, I like to keep things simple – so adhering to that philosophy, I have my mobile phone, office phone, home phone, cable and Internet all under the auspices of this provider. I get enough monthly bills without the added aggravation of divvying up my telecommunications invoices.

So in essence it went like this: All I had to do was visit one of the company’s local retail stores of which there are three within easy driving distance and decide which model was right for me.

Simple enough.

Wrong. 

Once there I unfortunately discovered that despite being a loyal customer for the better part of a decade, I was treated more like veteran season ticket holders of the New York Giants or Jets who are now  required to buy what is known as a Personal Seat License for a mere $20,000 in addition to the cost of the tickets.

One just-released model would cost me $323, while another with just slightly less horsepower ran a modest $285. The only bargains I found were models far below in quality than the one I currently have or a Blackberry, which apparently are about as marketable these days as a Betamax player.

With those prices and terms, I resisted the temptation to ask if Tony Soprano was actually the store’s general manager. So I walked out sans upgrade, but with enough still in my checking account to buy groceries for the coming week.

So if in a few short weeks, the Kathleen Turner sound-alike calls again, I promise to show greater resolve.

But of course I’ll wait until she’s finished before declining.