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The story you are about to read is true. Only Rod Serling could come up with a tale this wild.
Last month on an overcast Thursday morning as I was leaving the house for work, I looked back at our home and saw that the rose bush beside the front porch was beginning to bloom. I had just bought some hanging pots of pink petunias and yellow and white pansies. Despite the clouds, the house looked so beautiful with the addition of the spring finery. I decided to take a picture of it with my phone.
That’s when the craziness began.
As soon as the picture was added to my phone’s gallery, an alarm sounded. I thought it must be an Amber Alert or maybe a test of the emergency broadcast system. Then to my horror I heard a female voice say, “911, what’s your emergency?”
I very quickly answered, “I am so sorry. I must have pressed the wrong button. There’s no emergency.”
The dispatcher chuckled and said, “That’s all right. I’m glad you’re OK.”
I got to work and decided to shut off my phone for a while. At some point it turned itself on. As I was getting my lunch from the refrigerator, I heard that same alarm I had heard on my way to my car that morning. And I heard the dispatcher say, “911, what is your emergency?”
Again, I apologized. No emergency. It was just my phone being mercurial. I powered the phone down and left it alone, too afraid to touch it.
While running an errand, the phone was still off and lying in the passenger seat of my car. I happened to look over and saw that it was turning itself on again! The now familiar alarm rang and my new buddy from dispatch said, “911, what is your emergency.”
“Hi, it’s me again,” I said. “The woman with the phone that’s acting up. I am so sorry. I hate modern technology!”
I could hear her laughing and I told her I was glad she had a sense of humor about this. Even though I’m sure these calls were becoming a nuisance to her, she never once lost her temper and remained professional.
At this point I thought maybe I should go to the Verizon store to see what was going on with my phone. Or maybe a visit to the Catholic church for a bath in some holy water was what it needed. I was beginning to think the phone was possessed and on the verge of spitting up pea soup all over the interior of the car.
At about 3 p.m., I was crossing the threshold of the Verizon store out near Walmart when the phone turned itself on again and called 911.
“Yes, it’s me,” I said to the dispatcher. I told her I was at the Verizon store and hopefully that would be the last time my phone would be calling her. I asked for her name and I thanked her for her patience.
The manager at the Verizon store witnessed for herself the phone turning itself on and calling 911. She quickly disabled the phone so that it couldn’t do anymore harm. “Clearly there’s something very wrong with this phone,” she said.
“Oh, yes. Definitely,” I said. The phone was nearly 5 years old. I try to hang on to a phone until it is breathing its last. Perhaps the phone knew that it was dying and was calling out for help.
I left the store with a new phone and very gingerly handled the old one. Once the store manager silenced it, it never again tried to revive itself while in my care.
The next morning I saw my partner Roma curiously handling the cursed phone. In a panic I yelled, “Don’t touch it!” I knew then I had to dispose of it so that it would never cause mischief again. It is now in an undisclosed area of Rockbridge County in an unmarked grave.
I do appreciate the cool headedness of the 911 dispatcher that day. I’m sure that if it had been an actual emergency, she would have done her best to help me out.
