Yesterday, Saturday, I worked 3:00 pm to 8:00. I was cut early because it was slow. We experienced heavy intermittent storms and customers stayed away. It didn’t break my heart. I hate working when it’s slow. It just reminds me even more that I’d rather earn a living doing something I love.
Since I didn’t start my shift at 8:30 am I worked on Lane (register) 3, and I had a pod partner. At Sprouts the lanes are arranged so that there are two registers facing opposite directions in each pod that share a rectangular work space. My pod partner was a newbie I will call, Diane. We began sharing stories of weird cell phone behavior.
Since I began working at Sprouts in early January, I’ve kept my phone in my left rear pocket. At Walmart we all wore those stunning vests bearing the Walmart spark. They had pockets in the front. So, I didn’t have the issue I described in this little blog.
There have been many occasions in which I didn’t properly lock my phone’s screen and my left butt cheek opened certain apps.
One day I heard music. It was The Scorpions. It was a busy time and the ambient noise distorted the music’s source. Then I realized my left cheek was vibrating to, “Rock Me Like A Hurricane.” My ass had opened my WMMO (local classic rock station) app.
Diane shared a story about her mom losing her Android phone in the couch cushions. Apparently, it was missing for a couple of days, when Diane was sitting on the couch and the cushions began vibrating. Her search produced her mom’s phone. It turned out that of its own volition it changed pass codes and her mom had to bring it to her service provider so she could unlock it.
My other phone absurdities concern three text messages my phone tried to send to three of my doctors. In the first instance, my tookus started typing a message. Silly phone, all those numbers are landlines!
I discovered the first one when I got sent on a break and I pulled my phone out. I busted out laughing. WTF? How did that happen?
Seriously, how did this happen? First, my cheek would had to open my contacts app, then choose the, “H,” category and run down the list till it picked, “Hudanich.” Does my left cheek speak Russian? Was it missing my home turf of St. Pete, which was named St. Petersburg by a Russian dude who, I surmise, was homesick?
Then, my phone would have selected the letters you see above AND hit the space bar. HOW did that happen? Really, I want to know. And what are the odds of each of those steps being taken to produce that nonsensical text?
I took screenshots of these text attempts with the vague idea of using them in a blog about how I am a vortex of weirdness.
Last week the experience was repeated, but my phone wanted to text my vascular surgeon in Maitland.
Then, yesterday, after having the conversation with Diane about weird phone behavior, I was sent on my lunch break. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and saw this.
And, why all doctors? Why not Publix? Or some of my friends: Chelle, Connie or Pat? They all have cell phones.
It would have been hilarious if my phone had sent any of this nonsense to one of them.