Imbeciles And Cell Phones

Joe The Plumber was very proud of his new cell phone: "This is the third cell phone I've had this month - the other two I threw against the wall in frustration with stupid customers." He took a picture of me, made it his wallpaper, and off we went to empty a portion of E.'s storage locker in Citrus Heights, using his pickup truck.

At E.'s storage locker, a book fell out of a box, entitled: "Know Your Own IQ". E. gave an embarrassed smile and said "I was a 75: r-r-r-r-e-e-e-e-tarded!" "Moron, idiot," I suggested. "Imbecile - no, wait, imbecile is a 25," she replied. We both agreed these self-test books are silly.

Despite E.'s grave distaste for Joe The Plumber, she gave him a nice set of fireplace pokers.

Then off to dump the stuff into the basement! We made two trips.

Joe thought we should make a third trip, and I agreed, but E. was fading. So, we decided to take Sparky's couch and throw it into the dump. The couch was unspeakably filthy, and since we were springing more furniture out of the storage locker, it seemed easier to just throw the thing away. Sparky's couch also featured a hide-a-bed, and it was very heavy. Joe said: "Let me take charge!" So, he tried to skid the couch down the steep front steps, but the couch caught on a step as it slid, veered sharply to the right, collided with a planter, threw it over and demolished it.

After putting the couch in the pickup truck, we went to the gas station to fill up. Joe detached his cell phone from his belt and left it on the cab of his truck, something he did as a precaution, because he once heard something about cell phones igniting fumes from the gas pumps, or some such silliness. We drove off to the dump.

At the Sacramento North Area Recovery Station (NARS) refuse transfer facility on Roseville Road, we dumped the couch under a big shed as various loaders rumbled around smashing garbage and pigeons circled overhead.

Suddenly, Joe realized his cell phone was gone. "Damn, I left it on the gas pump!" he said. We raced back to gas station on the Capitol City Freeway, tailgating, cutting people off, and otherwise weaving obnoxiously as Joe fretted about the cell phone. It occurred to me that if the cell phone was on the cab top, it might have tumbled backwards into the couch and we might have left it at the dump with the couch, but it was too late to check.

At the gas station, no one had seen anything. The cell phone was gone. We drove aimlessly for awhile, then Joe said: "Let's go eat! There is this teriyaki place on 21st where everyone knows me!"

Instead of coming through the front door, we went though the back door, the approach Joe was more familiar with (he had done some plumbing work there before). We strode through the kitchen as the cooks looked with dull surprise at our unexpected entry. We sat near several young women. The loose hip-hugging jeans on one woman exposed a generous Plumber's Butt: Joe The Plumber, of course, spotted the problem right away.

After teriyaki, Joe decided to get another cell phone. "They know me real well over at MetroPCS!" So, off we went. At the cell phone store, Joe got a replacement phone. The staff didn't seem to know him apart from the regular parade of imbeciles that came in daily.

Looking at the telephone selection, I was tempted. After years of furious resistance, I decided that I, too, finally needed a cell phone of my own. So, I made a purchase.....

....

On Sunday evening, I went into work. I received an E-Mail message that someone was trying to contact me regarding a cell phone they had discovered at 17th & Q Streets. "17th & Q!" I thought. "We never went through that intersection!" Nevertheless I quickly arranged to meet the fellow.....

Sure enough, it was Joe's lost cell phone! The fellow recognized me from the wallpaper. "I'm telling you straight up," he said. "Three years ago, I would have tried to sell the cell phone for money. These days, I'm trying to live my life in a different way." I thanked him profusely for his honesty.

So, what to do with the extra cell phone? MetroPCS doesn't take them back, and since I had lent the money to Joe for the purchase, in a technical sense, I was the orphan phone's owner. I offered it to E., since she had wanted a new cell phone with a camera, but she is the sort who looks gift horses in the mouth: "Someone woke me from my sleep telling me to change my voicemail password, and so I changed my voicemail password, and now I can't get access to it, and now MetroPCS is telling me they never call people telling them to change their password, and so I don't know who is telling me what to do." "But do you want a new cell phone?" I asked. She replied: "From Joe? NEVER!"

So, it now looks like Joe will get a spare cell phone, so the next time a stupid customer pushes him over the destructive edge, he will already have a phone-in-waiting.