One not so very fine day last week, something sad and unfortunate happened.
I joined a club of which I never wanted to be a member.
The Rice Bag Club.
How, you ask?
I’ll be glad to explain.
I had to carry a basket of laundry down the stairs and had no pockets on me. So I placed my iPhone inside the basket with the intention of retrieving it once I got downstairs.
You can probably guess that the retrieval never happened. At least not then.
I opened the washer, put detergent in it, dumped the basket of clothes in it, and turned the water on. You know, the usual steps for doing laundry.
Except that I forgot the step where one is supposed to retrieve one’s iPhone from the basket first.
It was probably a full two minutes after I walked away that I realized what had just happened.
And this is probably close to what I looked like upon that realization:
I ran to the washer, opened the door, half-praying half-hoping that I would somehow NOT find my iPhone in its watery grave.
I reached in and pulled out several armfuls of soppy wet clothes, before I was able to look and see my poor iPhone laying in about two feet of water.
It’s really too bad that there isn’t CPR available for iPhones.
I ran upstairs and used the hair dryer on the phone. Water sputtered out and the screen flickered on and off and then went black.
So it was into a bag of rice the iPhone went. After 24 hours, it still wasn’t working.
Farewell, iPhone. You were good to me for the past year and half.
I’m sorry I drowned you.
Then it was time to move on.
Mike (after laughing at me) and I made an appointment at the Apple store and went in with our insurance papers. But of course, the Apple rep would end up telling us that only Mike’s iPhone was insured, not mine. The rep us told an outright LIE, because we knew we’d shelled out 200 bucks for two years worth of insurance for both phones.
But somehow my insurance wasn’t registered through Apple Care.
So we had to go back home and call Apple Care ourselves and then come back to the Apple store and try to get my phone replaced.
After playing phone tag about 20 times with Apple Care (anyone else out there played the same game?), we gave up in frustration.
So the next day, I went back to the Apple store and told them that we weren’t able to get through to Apple Care. I had proof of insurance payment. The Apple rep turned out to be a nice lady who said she’d just go ahead and replace my phone–and even waive the $49 fee because of all the hassle. I love you, sweet lady.
I texted Mike who was at work and let him know that I was getting a new phone. “Sweet!” he texted back.
That would be the last I would hear from him for a while.
Because, well, the following happened:
In the process of replacing my iPhone, Mike’s iPhone was completely wiped out.
The poor guy was at work when Mike looked at his iPhone and saw that all the data was being erased.
So he probably looked like this:
Or maybe like this:
Mike left work and drove straight to the Apple store, hoping to still catch me there and save his precious data from being completely erased forever. But I had already left.
If you know Mike, you know that he can be passionate about expressing himself.
(He once almost passed out from yelling during a Michigan game.)
I imagine that the lucky Apple rep helping him probably looked like this:
Alas, Mike’s iPhone data could not be saved or retrieved.
And I felt bad, because after all, all of this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t washed my iPhone.
But Mike was quick to forgive. I love you, Mike.
As it turns out, Mike continued to have problems with his iPhone, so we went back to the Apple store and the same lady who replaced my phone was there. She said she almost cried when she found out what happened to Mike’s iPhone. Aw.
And she gave Mike a free iPhone replacement.
So we are both now with working iPhones.
And now we look something like this:
Images courtesy of the following websites: