‘Um…yes, it just slipped out of its case,’ Joost says.
I stare at him. It’s not as though I hadn’t yet noticed that my phone had just made a free fall from a meter before it eventually crashed to the ground.
I look down and see that my phone is lying in the road, right next to the verge. I snatched at the phone. At first glance, the front glass seems perfectly intact.
Now is the time that someone should take action. Just as presents need to be carefully unpacked (even though I am hoping that he hasn’t bought me ‘something funny’, but a present that I asked for or really need) and I now realize that phones need to be picked up.
It's my phone, so I do it. I bend down, pick it up with two fingers, count to two and turn it over.
And that’s how I discovered that the iPhone I have been battling to get working for four months has a body made out of glass. Broken glass and in such a way, that I certainly hope to be blessed with lifelong fortune.
‘Maybe your case is too big?’ suggested Joost.
Oh yes of course, he’s still there as well. I take a deep breath and give him my – maybe precisely now is not the right time to discuss the size of of the cover of my phone – look.
So, lifting the phone gingerly, I jog home and consult Google and look under 'iPhone, back panel crushed.'
What kind of an idiot makes a phone out of glass?
My grandfather has a collection of crystal figurines hidden in a closet which are actually for decoration. Protecting these from inquisitive children is very tricky. The kids always want to play with the chicken, the owl and the rest of the ornamental animals.
This is where your higher education really comes in useful – organizing secure defenses in front of the closet by building castle walls of chairs and sofas. The animals can obey the herd instinct and seek shelter in the safety of the plate glass display cabinet under the down lights. You shouldn’t think this through btw, it isn’t Toy Story.
Even though I am beginning to have serious doubts – a phone is a tool. A tool that I can’t really live without. So I set off to the iStore to see if they can make the repair to the casing.
I enter the store and tell the two male assistants ‘I have dropped my phone!’
‘That's not so handy’, says the grey-haired older man, while the younger man moves towards me.
‘Why would you make a phone out of glass!’ I yell.
‘Because it’s beautiful of course! And we men don’t drop things once they’re in our hands,’ that grey-haired gentleman again.
I happen to know plenty of men who let nice things slip through their fingers like water or simply drop things, like bad goal keepers. I think to myself.
So I decide to tackle the conversation on two levels – firstly nice gadgets and secondly soccer. Before I even get started I’m quickly interrupted by the older man.
‘Feel this,’ he says.
And what do I do? I feel it. I feel the back of the phone the elderly man proffers me who has attached soft cellophane to the outside of the phone.
After that I listen to the advice of the young man who tells me about a man who lives in Durban. I should give him a call, he says I should make an appointment and then we should meet so that he can repair my phone within 15 minutes. It will be as good as new, but really brand new he assures me. Unfortunately I couldn’t meet him then because he is currently on leave, but he gives me his number... the words turn into small talk and it goes back and forth and is all very entertaining, but I really have to do some shopping. So I say, ‘Guys, it was really nice meeting you, I will definitely give your man a call.’
‘Well, bye for now!’
And I break the Magical Spell with one blow.