I am well on my way to completing the first goal on my 2013 bucket list. My completed entry form and wintry self-portrait was mailed last week; however, what was supposed to be a simple errand to print a picture off my phone turned into complete nincompoopery that left me with half my contact list deleted. It wasn’t my fault. Really.
I dropped by Walgreens to print a photo to include with my Blizzard to Beach Travel Trivia entry form. When I asked the photoshop attendant for a USB cord to download pictures from my phone, she told me it was better to remove my phone’s SD card because the kiosks have trouble detecting pictures on an Android.
Not knowing how to access my phone’s SD card, I tell her I’ll just use the Bluetooth option, to which she replied that Bluetooth is not available on Walgreens’ kiosks.
I am forced to admit to her that I don’t know how to access the SD card, so may I please have a USB cord. She matter of factly half asks half orders me to hand over my phone and then she promply begins to disassemble it.
I have a USB cord in my car, I tell her, I’ll just go get it.
Pop. Snap. Off comes the back of my phone, the battery is removed, and she is searching for the SD card.
I feel panicky. Oh, you don’t have to do that, I say with my palm stretched out to her in a gesture known as “please give back my phone,” but she was far too intent on finding that SD card to notice my gesture.
It’s probably under the SIM card, she says and swiftly pops it out. Well, it’s not under there. Hmmm…
Hmmmm?! I’ve lived long enough to know that when someone who is supposed to know what they’re doing says “hmmmm” chances are they don’t know what they’re doing, and they are probably a wannabe poser to boot. For some reason, I run into these types of people regularly.
While she turned my disassembled phone over in her hands, I was struck by the high probability of this chick’s usual job being to stock the freezer and that she’s standing-in for the regular photoshop dude who is taking his lunch break. I felt sick to my stomach.
“Oh, here it is!” She plucked the SD card out of the side of the phone where it’s easily accessible, and removal of the battery and SIM card is completely unnecessary, placed the SD card into an adapter and handed it and the parts to my phone to me and walked away.
I opted not to tell her that I wasn’t familiar with Walgreens’ photo kiosks in fear that she would tear the machine to shreds trying to show me how it works. I fumbled my way through it, having to restart the process twice. Two hours later, I left with my travel trivia picture and 67 of 1358 other photos I have saved on my phone.
Walking out of Walgreens, I tap in the first two characters of G’s alias – *Best Daughter Ever* – into my phone to call her and rant about the nincompoopery I just encountered, but her name and number doesn’t pop up. I clear the screen and try again, thinking that in my frustration I hit the wrong keys.
The photo chick deleted half my contancts when she removed my SD card! My most important contacts – family, friends, emergency numbers – were gone. Wiped clean. I wanted one simple picture for a stupid travel trivia entry, and I leave 2 hours later with a disassembled phone, 68 pictures, and my SD card wiped clean, and I can’t even call the closest people to me and vent because their numbers have all been erased. GAH! Why does the universe hate me so?
When I told a friend about the incident the other day, she laughed and said, “I love how this random stuff happens to you. And this time it is totally not your fault.” I suppose if you disregard that 1) I didn’t familiarize myself with my phone after I bought it and 2) I handed my phone over to a total stranger, then my friend is right: this is totally not my fault.
Now I wait for Kelly and Michael to call.