A couple of years ago if I'd heard the word "Bluetooth," I'd have recalled Freddy, my playmate down the street when I was growing up. Freddy thought it was great fun eating grape Kool-aid straight out of the packet and then curling his lips away from his teeth to show me his awesome blue teeth. When Freddy was really on a tear, he'd chomp down cherry Kool-aid and swear it was "blood."
Lately I was initiated into the new world of Bluetooth. Make no mistake; I don't resemble anything remotely close to a techno-geek. If an item contains any more buttons than an on/off switch, I'll pretty much short-circuit my brain trying to work the thing.
Now being an otherwise clever girl, I pay my cell phone bill online. Just a few clicks and away you go. No need for snail-mail or keeping up with how much a first class stamp costs this week since those rates get changed more frequently than your college son's underwear. Imagine my surprise, then, the last time I viewed my bill on line and - egads! The bill for my cell phone usage was four - count 'em - four times higher than normal. Now this kind of shock is akin to having a spouse, say, who every morning for the past umpteen years has eaten three eggs for breakfast. Every morning it's three eggs, three eggs, three eggs. Then one morning he announces he'll have 12 eggs for breakfast. I mean - it was that kind of startling.
In a hot minute I'd dialed up my cell phone provider folks where I reached a nice young man in Utah. And I have to say this guy would make a great psychologist. He listened to me as I went through the seven stages of grief as they apply to ungodly cell phone bills. He learned I was in Long Beach caring for my granddaughter, that a family member had gone through surgery, that my dog had suffered a detached retina. I learned he had four children and his wife flew for Jet Blue and they loved flying into the Long Beach airport and going to Disneyland with the kids. He offered me some cell phone usage suggestions and even a few freebies to soothe my pain. Before we were through, I was practically inviting him to Thanksgiving dinner.
"Say, Gale," he said just prior to our ending our conversation. "Do you need a new cell phone? I can give you a really good deal on a pink "Razr." With rebates, all you'll pay is sales tax. And it's Bluetooth compatible." Well. There it was: the "B" word. And OK, while I was really tempted to ask him important questions such as whether the phone came in red, I didn't want to seem ungrateful. Besides, I've owned a Razr (silver) phone for quite awhile, so maybe it was time for a new one. And soon we Californians will be required to employ a hands free cell phone while driving. But pink? Phones, like cars, should not be pink, but oh, well.
The phone arrived (free shipping) and I attempted to set it up. But I had important phone numbers and precious photos stored in my old phone and the task of switching everything seamlessly over to the new phone was daunting. So I hauled my box of new "stuff" to my local dealer and thrust it into the hands of a capable young lady who programmed the new phone effortlessly. Now it was time to commit to Bluetooth technology.
The cell phone representative had me pegged. "Here's one you might enjoy," she said smoothly. "Here's the 'on' and 'off' switch, here's the 'up' volume button and here's the 'down' volume." Oh, I could have kissed her; maybe I should invite her to Thanksgiving dinner, too. She recognized a techno-neophyte when she saw one. She explained how Bluetooth technology allows two or more devices to connect and exchange information wirelessly over an approximate 30-foot range.
I learned Bluetooth is found in a variety of products. My favorite is a retro handset. The handset is - natch - a nice flat black, just like the old telephone receivers we held in our hot little hands when we were 15 and waiting for our current heartthrob to ask us to go to the roller-skating rink on Friday. So how fun would it be to stroll along holding one of these babies, just blabbering away, while the device is connected to - nothing! Or there's the "BluAlert" bracelet that you wear so if you're out on the dance floor, for example, and your cell phone is going off at the bottom of your purse, your bracelet alerts you that you have a call by buzzing discretely on your wrist. Unfortunately, this device bears a regrettable resemblance to those tracking bracelets attached to your ankle by the police so you don't violate parole by straying outside your assigned territory.
And the Blueberry name? Apparently some wag thought it'd be a real thigh-slapper to name it for a 10th century Danish king who had a wild blueberry habit and some rather stained teeth. Harold "Bluetooth" Gormson was talented in communication and hashing out deals, thus emulating the way Bluetooth unites our wireless devices under a single standard.
So here's my idea: if Bluetooth technology is so great at getting our gadgets to converse, I'm going to set my new Bluetooth device on the kitchen counter in hopes my appliances get some ideas about communicating. My fridge can tell my electric grill that there's a nice piece of salmon inside for dinner, for example, and the grill, having communicated with the fridge, will char that salmon to perfection, then let the dishwasher know the grill pan is ready for a good scrubbing cycle. Yep with all that communication between appliances I'm all set. I just hope they remember to call me when dinner is ready.
Gale Hammond Gale Hammond is a writer and freelance photographer who has lived in Morgan Hill 24 years. Reach her at GaleHammond@aol.com.
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Plastic, paper bag ban considered
