966. iHate My iPhone


966. His primitive iPhone 4 rang. He swiped his index finger—Slide to Answer—to the right to answer the phone. Nothing happened. Here we go again, he thought. He swiped again. He swiped again. He kept swiping while starting to swear under his breath. The phone opened on the fourth ring. He tapped on the Speaker icon. He tapped harder. He tapped much harder—tap‐tap‐tap! He thought, once again, how much he'd like to take out the hammer from beneath his kitchen sink and pound his contrary iPhone into countless pieces of forever silent plastic particles. The Speaker icon finally lit up. He said, "Hello." Nobody was on the other end. He tapped the Call Back icon. The phone rang and rang. He depressed the button on the bottom of the phone to close everything down. The screen showed: Voicemail—Slide to Listen. He swiped right. There was no message. 3.4

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