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See, my cell phone is almost a year and a half old (and no, it is not a smart phone, because I am the only person left on the planet without a smart phone. I had the opportunity to get one, but at the time I was picking out my new cell phone, I was all like, "Nah, apps are just a passing fad. That whole iphone thing WILL NEVER CATCH ON". So I picked out a regular phone, and somewhere Steve Jobs smirked.) Anyway, my phone is still okay, despite being of the non-app variety. It does the calling and the texting just fine, and it holds my music, and it has a camera that I absolutely never bother to use, so it meets my needs.
Anywho. For a year and a half I've had my phone, which means that for a year and half I've been paying the $8/month "insurance" in case anything ever happens to said phone. (I'm rough on my phones. They get beat up, they fall down stairs, and after losing the last one by dropping it in the toilet, I said that as God as my witness, I will never be without phone insurance again! *Please insert dramatic fist shaking here*). But Tony does not feel this way. Tony thinks paying the $8 is silly. According to him, nothing has happened to the phone in the last year and a half, so obviously it isn't defective.
So he cancelled the insurance.
And two weeks later, my phone broke.
I figure that somewhere, buried deep in the basement bunker of the Sprint home office, sits a guy with a list of all the people who cancel their phone insurance. And as soon as he sees your name on the list, he goes over to the big red button labeled "self-destruct" and types in your phone number. Then he punches that bad boy and viola! Suddenly your phone goes dead 100 miles away.
So ZB and I headed into the Sprint store, which surprise surprise, was FULL of people who had something wonky going on with their phones. (Basement bunker guy must be having a banner month). So we're all hanging around, waiting for our phones to get diagnosed. (And PS? Babies generally do not care for just sitting around in a phone store. Especially when they aren't allowed to touch/slobber on/eat any of the display phones).
Finally, after an hour, it's my turn to talk to the phone repair guy, whom I have secretly nicknamed the great and powerful Oz. I describe the symptoms, Oz takes the phone apart, fiddles with it, and announces that not only is my phone super-duper broken, but it has broken in such a way that Oz has never seen anything like it before. Oz decrees that I need a new phone. Thank you bunker guy.
Sadly, without insurance, the diagnostic is $38 and the new phone is $300. With insurance, it all would have been free. And you say that your husband only cancelled it two weeks ago? Gee. So sad for you.
But wait! Says Oz. It just so happens that during the month of September, they are running a special where they will let me sign up for insurance for the low low price of...$8 a month! And if I sign up for this insurance again, I will get a new phone for free! And the diagnostic for free! And the honor of meeting the great and powerful Oz for free! (Well, not free free. $8 a month free). And I was like, "Wait. You'll let me re-sign up for my insurance, and replace my phone for free, and we'll all pretend this ugly lapse in insurance judgement never happened?" And Oz said, "yup". And I was like, "Sold!"
So now the $8 is back on my bill. And a new phone has been ordered (they don't carry them in stock because, hello, ancient year and a half old non-smart phone here). And they'll call me in one or two business days when the phone arrives.
But here's the funny thing. 24 hours after they re-signed me up for the insurance plan? My old phone, the one that Oz was like, "Whoa! You broke the crap outta this thing! It's toast!" just mysteriously came back to life. Totally fine. Almost like my name appeared on the "has insurance" list again, and the guy in the Sprint bunker took his finger off the destroy button. Coincidence? I think not.
So I think there's a conspiracy going on with the cell phone people. They're like the mafia offering "protection plans". Get the plan and nothing happens to your phone. Quit paying for the plan and all of a sudden your phone is mysteriously fire-bombed in a middle of the night drive-by. Oz isn't Oz...he's Don Corleone.
And he made me an offer I couldn't refuse.
