Do I look like a guy?
Sheesh! My Droid died. AGAIN! Second time in three months. Instead of the keyboard dying this time, the touch screen passed out and refused to be resuscitated. Getting a new one, yay, but no upgrading to the 4 because that’s mucho dinero….
Anyhow, I shlepped to the phone store, registered that I was waiting. Small insignificant fact – my phone account is joined together with the KoD’s. Makes sense, if you think about it, as he was here eons before me and had everything set up long before I needed a cellphone, so I piggybacked on his account. No biggie, right? That’s what marriage is all about – share and share alike.
They call my turn. Except they called “Ira” – KoD’s actual name. (Shockingly, it does not say KoD on his birth certificate!). I explain to the dude that Ira is my husband, and my name is HaDassah. He notes it down. It should already be in the files, but OK.
Over the ten minutes that I was in front of PhoneDude he called me Ira seven times. The first two times I gently reminded him he’d written down my name, and that I would rather be called by my own first name than my husband’s name or just call me Mrs Milner. Sorry HaDassah. Blah blah blah, Ira, blah blah. After a while, I just rolled my eyes and kept my mouth shut because the eejit was just not getting it.
Seriously? Even though it says Ira on the screen, AND the WOMAN in front of you has told you her name – can we not be flexible enough to use MY name? Or even be polite and call me Mrs Milner?
I love the KoD and his name suits him. It doesn’t suit me. At all.
And now I am without a cellphone until the new one shows up tomorrow. Color me grumpy. Pass the snarkitol and the grumpitol, and throw in some coffee and chocolate too.
(I am so starting a fund for the iPhone 5. I have had enough of this Droid crapadaciousness).