There are so many obstacles that could keep a newly single woman from getting back in the game—the need to lie on the couch and over-analyze things, an earth-ending asteroid, a bear standing between her and George Clooney—but you wouldn't expect her choice of cell phone service provider to be one of them...
“Enough is enough! You’re going to stop this mental masochistic masturbation and start dating!”
You know Mom means business when she yells “masochistic masturbation” while cooking dinner for Grandpa. Luckily, he was outside watering the lawn.
“You don’t need a commitment,” she continued, “but you need to get back in the game!”
“Thanks, Ma.” I mumbled, knowing she was right.
After nearly 2 months of slothing around and analyzing everything from the first time my ex-boyfriend and I met to the last time we spoke, Mom’s revelation threw me into a little black dress, plum-colored velvet wedges, lip gloss, and black lace panties. I even shaved a few parts of my body that hadn’t seen anything but the inside of a floor-length jersey skirt since the beginning of summer.
After I got all gussied up, I was ready to go. I grabbed my iPhone (that’s right, I got it back!), opened the Maps app, searched “Venice Café, St. Louis, Missouri,” then slipped the phone into my tote. Before walking to my car, I checked myself out in the mirror. The dress and shoes matched my game face perfectly. As I walked out of the house, I pulled my iPhone back out and looked at the screen. Suddenly, a feeling of rage surged in my chest as I spit out, “F*%$ you, Sprint!”
After nearly six minutes of “searching” for my Friday night prowling grounds, the Maps app had yet to find it. I threw open my car door, sat in the drivers seat, put the key in the ignition, and looked at my phone yet again. It was still searching.
The previous week, I had experienced the same situation, though luckily the stakes weren’t as high. Sprint spent nearly 20 minutes finding and routing my desired location (Whole Foods in Clayton, Missouri). On my way to lunch, I called Sprint. I remained cordial at first, but after being put on hold and transferred numerous times, I lost it.
Remember the voicemail that was leaked in 2007 of Alec Baldwin angrily yelling barnyard animal names at his daughter Ireland? Well, if Sprint and I were to re-enact that, I’d be cast as Alec and Sprint would be Ireland.
Sprint has been half-assing its service for a long time. In all honesty, it didn’t bother me at first, because I was depressed—the fewer people that had access to me, the better. Now that I’m jumping back into the dating scene, pedicured feet first, lame-o cell phone service will not suffice! How am I going to take hot selfies and post them to Instagram or Facebook in a timely fashion? What about when the time comes to immerse myself in quick-witted, flirty text repartee with a fellow mingling single? What about sexting? If there's one thing that needs to be delivered with haste, it's a sext.
Amidst my Alec/Ireland re-enactment, the customer service representative explained Sprint’s situation. Apparently, the higher-ups thought it would be best to tear down their 3G towers in order to build 4G towers. I mean, I’m no tower-building cell-phone-service-providing expert, but wouldn’t it have made more sense to build the 4G towers BEFORE getting rid of the old ones?
Before hanging up, “Ireland” also let me know Sprint service would be top-notch around January of next year… but what does that mean? Will it be as good as Verizon, the best wingman a newly single woman could ask for? More importantly, am I willing to let my cell phone service potentially slow down the next step of getting over what’s-his-face until next January?
Truth be told, I would have canceled my service the day of the Whole Foods outing, but I’m on the same plan with my mom and sister, who have zero complaints about Sprint—but they’re also the type of people who would be perfectly fine using messenger birds or Morse code to keep in touch. With that said, Sprint, you win—but things better shape up come January or else!
Image: Nicolas Raymond, freestock.ca