I’m completely hopeless with technology. It’s a little worrying, considering I work as a digital journalist.
Mobile phones confound me. I was the last person in the world to get one and I’ve only recently learned how not to yell into them.
I do not get the whole wifi/data/mobile roaming thing AT ALL.
But I have fallen madly, deeply in love with texting.
As a fellow mad texter friend said to me yesterday: “It’s so much lower impact than talking in real life.”
I also love having the last word. If you text me, I will text you back. If you reply, I will text you back. And repeat. And repeat. To infinity and beyond.
I am inexhaustible. And prolific.
What I didn’t factor into my max texting predilection was having one of my mad texting friends go overseas.
So I may have sent 1000, possibly more, texts to them without considering the charges involved.
Yesterday, it belatedly occurred to me that you have to pay for text messages. And I started freaking out, thinking: “I am a single mother, I can’t afford to pay $2000 phone bills.”
And then I thought: “Hang on, when’s the last time I got a phone bill?”
And then I realised: “Husband still pays my phone bill.”
Actually, make that panicked face.
An additional 50 agitated texts followed to my mad texting mates – including the one overseas, I really know how to dig myself in deeper – about how I could resolve my situation.
My mad texting mates suggested I call Optus to try and change my “plan”. But I can’t because it’s in Husband’s name and Optus is very retro about flibbertigibbet spouses needing to have the account holder’s permission to do anything.
So I sent Husband a sheepish text confessing my sin. It went something like this: “Have done stupid thing. Texted someone overseas maybe 1000 times (not an exaggeration). Am scared about the bill because I think you are still the account holder. Feel sick.”
Moments after I sent the message, my mad texting overseas friend realised they were probably the one who’d be getting the terrifying bill. But it was too late.
They suggested: “You could maybe say: oh silly me – I thought it was Austria – but its Australia … always get those confused.”
I didn’t think that would fly. Husband knows I’m not the simpering Marilyn Monroe type. Although he can’t quite believe how hopeless I am at trying – and failing – to make the DVD player work in his absence.
So I sent Husband another sheepish text saying: “Might have panicked unnecessarily. Was texting Australian number. Forget I said anything. Feeling sick again …”
I suspect he thinks I’ve gone slightly mad. But he was very nice about it.
I think I have gone slightly mad, because the fright hasn’t stoppped me texting.
I called my mum last night to have a moan about my sticky situation and she – being a former Optus high-flyer – was all like: “Sweetheart, it’s only 25c or something per text.”
And I’m like: “Yes, Mum. But I’ve sent 1000. Maybe 2000.”
And she was like: “Oh.”
I’m reminded of a scene from Doctor Who a few weeks back when he said: “You can’t really tell if something’s an addiction until you try to give it up.”
How terrifying do you think my bill – well, to be entirely accurate, Husband’s – bill will be?
Song of the day: Chris Isaak “Wicked Game”
(Heavens, the clip is quite … something.)