The Outcome Could Have Been Different

Ten months ago, when I bought my Smarty Pants phone Donna thought it would be a good idea to buy the insurance Cricket offered on it, just in case I dropped my unfamiliar device. So, on top of the $40 a month for 3GB of high-speed data we added another $7 to help defray the cost if something bad ever happened. Tuesday, I thought maybe it might be good if I canceled the insurance for two reasons.

First, I could save some money. In the ten months of ownership I have spent nearly half the original cost of the phone on insurance. I was definitely approaching the point of diminishing returns. And second, I hadn’t dropped it yet.

But I hesitated and didn’t pull the trigger, figuring I’d wait a couple more months. Wednesday when I was getting my coat off the back of the chair at Dunkin Donuts after finishing breakfast, the phone feel out and dropped 3′ to the tile floor below.

SMACK!

It made that particular sound because it landed perfectly flat on the floor with the jelly side up causing no damage at all. You can bet though, if I had canceled the insurance the day before that sucker would have hit corner edge first and broke the screen, the glass back panel, bent the case and probably breaking the motherboard.

I’m Afraid I’m Jinxing It Somehow

A couple months back I started keeping track of how may work days I have left. I have a letter-sized whiteboard on the side of one of my hanging file cabinets that I use to track some things and on the bottom of it, in the lower right-hand corner, is a two-digit number that is decreasing in size. It is on the side that faces away from the door so I’m the only one who sees it. Every morning. First thing, I subtract one from the number there.1

I have not made it a secret that I am hanging up my spurs here at the Valve Store, but I’ve only really shared it with just a few people. Everyone in my department, my cubical neighbors and HR of course, but word is starting get around. Seems like every other day now that I’ll get asked, “Is it true you are retiring this year?” I’ll answer in the affirmative and then tell them the number that is on my white board.

Now that the number is in the thirties, I’m starting to feel a little like a pitcher with a no hitter going. I know what is going on, everyone in the dugout knows what is going on, but nobody is saying anything for fear of jinxing it. So when I say the number out loud…