We have become slaves to them.  They are beginning to rule our lives.

What is it?  Children?  No.  Jobs?  Nope.

The answer is cell phones.  It seems everybody’s got one now, and the age of “first acquisition” is creeping downwards.  When they first came out, they were pretty dern expensive, so businessmen were pretty much the only ones who could afford them.

Then the price came down enough where women all carried one in their cars for safety.  Then we started giving them to our older teens, mainly so we keep tabs on them.

My son says some of the junior high kids have them now.  My daughter says, “EVERYBODY in high school has one” (she doesn’t).  I guess next we’ll be giving pink and blue ones as baby shower gifts.

When a cell phone rings, people listen.  Some phones you can ignore, but a cell phone ringing has a sense of urgency to it.  “Somebody needs to talk to us NOW,” we think.

I was at a luncheon with about thirty women and a cell phone rang.  Simultaneously, all thirty forks hit the plates, the women all whipped their heads in the direction of their purses, and began grappling to find it before it stopped ringing.

I was doing it, too, although I knew by the ring that it wasn’t mine.  But I had to lift my purse closer to my ear, just to make sure. 

See what I mean?  One cell phone rings, and an entire luncheon stops dead in its tracks.

I was at the dentist the other day for a cleaning.  When I was finished, the hygienist had me brush my teeth some fluoride stuff.  She was timing me for exactly one minute.

About twenty seconds into it, I was literally foaming at the mouth, and my cell phone rang.

Like I said, when a cell phone rings, you just have to answer it, so I lunged for my purse and whipped the little monster out in nothing flat.

“Ehhh-oh?” I said through my foam.

“Mom, is that you?” I heard my son ask.  He was calling from school.

“Eh, ih mee,” I responded.  Foam was drooling down my chin.

“Where are you?” he inquired.  He could tell all was not normal with Mom.

“I ah eh denih,” I replied.  I hoped I didn’t have to repeat it.

“Where?”  he asked again, of course.

“Gehhih mah teeh cleh,” I countered.

“Oh, whatever,” he said.  “I was just wondering if Jordan could come over after school today.”

So this was the emergency.  This was the reason I threw myself across the examination room at my phone.  This was the reason that I had drooled on my blouse.

But it’s not his fault.  It’s the cell phone, I tell you.

It rings.  We obey.  It is our master.