I called in to T-Mobile today to make sure my phone will be canceled for certain before I leave for Germany. The woman I happened to connect to asked me for the purpose of my cancellation, after which I told her I was studying abroad. To make conversation, she asked where, and I told her. To my surprise, she said she had lived in Germany before. The city where she lived for three years was Nürnberg, which is ironically only about an hour from Regensburg, where I'll be heading.
We struck up a small but nice conversation involving tips and cultural points of interest about Germany while she took care of the stuff regarding my phone account. It was simultaneously awkward but neat. We mostly finished up with her giving me advice to store my phone and its battery separately for the year while I'm gone, and reminding me to save all of my numbers and other stored information before she deactivated everything. What an interesting customer service call.
On this note, for those of you who have my cell number, don't call me any more. More as don't bother calling me any more; all you're going to get is probably some odd whining tones and a calm, reassuring, feminine voice notifying you, Stop Wasting Your Time, This Number Ain't Here Anymore, Kiddo. But really this is all a bit ironic, since 1) I rarely get calls anymore, as of a certain few months ago, and 2) the current reader population of this little bloogy-blog is probably smaller than some tiny, isolated, primitive village in northern Siberian territory, and those who would call me at all probably don't even know it exists.
Just write to me. Nobody writes enough any more anyway, even by e-mail. We always go on about how e-mail is quickly gobbling up the dwindling land of snail-mail letters, but the truth is, we don't even write e-mail letters any more. How tragic, really.
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