Of Ships and Sees - Or New Phones and Life Portraits

I found myself sitting for over half an hour in the waiting area of AT&T - the toggle on my Blackberry had come loose requiring a special controlled effort when pointing and clicking; it was high time for a replacement.

I learned they see over 200 customers a day in the midtown AT&T Device Support Center. By support, they typically mean, "we're sorry, but your current plan does not offer any insurance, upgrades or exchanges" or "congratulations, you are entitled to a recommissioned phone."

Yes, recommissioned. A term previously used in reference to Naval ships, this is now the one they have coined for a phone taken from a previous owner and then passed onto you for its new journey.

My customer service representative actually said "well, we wouldn't want your phone to feel bad and dirty for being refurbished. So, all the phone's we give out are recommissioned."

Cool, thanks. My phone may need to check the self-help section at Barnes and Noble, but surely it can save the cost of a therapist for now.

As I sat waiting to receive my new shiny front of a recommissioned phone (yes, front, you get to keep your original back. And I won't even bother to guess how that makes the back of my phone feel), I sat texting and waiting.

I felt that strong sensation of someone's eyes on me. Looking straight up, I was met with the eyes of a young, artsy girl sitting directly across from me. As soon as our eyes met, she blinked back down to her lap. It was then I spied what she had, a little notebook and a pen scribbling away.

She was using me as a life portrait study. I continued to wait as other names with broken phones were called out ahead of me and all the while the eyes peered at me and the pen drew me. Every time I looked up her way, she quickly changed her sight-line back to her paper.

I was both disturbed and flattered to be the subject of this stranger's artistic study. But she and her little pad and recommissioned phone left on their new journey together before I. And I didn't see the result of her watchful eyes and scribbling hand.

As my friend D said, "your likeness will now be residing in someone's little notebook. That is kinda creepy."