So I am working at the bar last night when I discover that my cell phone, which is sitting on a shelf under the bar where I always keep it, is soaking wet and no longer works. Apparently the sink above it lost its structural integrity (I guess?), dousing my phone in water and various splashes of booze.
Not to worry, I say to myself, I have been paying an extra $7 per month for smartphone insurance; such that my cell phone is replaceable should it break, for whatever reason. Alas, upon arrival to the Bell store today, I discover that my replacement phone will take 1-3 days for delivery and will cost me $150. “$150!”, I exclaim to the shithead, “why must I pay $150?”. He explains that this replacement fee is specific to water damage and is far less than the $500 one would pay for a new Blackberry flip phone. The bitch of it is that I did not pay $500 for that phone. I would not pay anywhere near that much for a stinking cell. The damn thing was $30 with a renewal of my 2-year contract with Bell. The shithead does not feel my pain, nor does he sympathize with my attempts to trump the “water damage” allegation with claims that the phone was actually damaged by a sordid cocktail of Bacardi, Stoli, Canadian Club and Tanqueray.
So thanks very little Bell mobility! You win again, and I am unreachable for 1-3 days. I mourn my Blackberry friend with the badass cobra sticker on the back and the chip in the front display that I got from dropping it the first day I had it. I have a few photos of our time together;
Remember the time we got wasted on my patio? I was not very happy with you later that night when you rang and I had to go in to work, three sheets to the wind.
Ah, the incessant texting. My second most disgusting habit.
On the bright side, maybe now I can get the phone in pink like I had initially wanted?