8 March—Monday morning I was told by my casualty insurer that if I installed a privacy-invading app on my cellphone that surveilled my driving and confirmed I was a judicious driver, I could save some bucks on the premium. So naturally, since I’m as judicious as a driver can be (and even if I weren’t, injudicious driving isn’t supposed to affect the premium, since the actuaries build lousy driving into it) I downloaded the money-saving app.

I tried, anyway. But an error message told me to forget it because my seven-year-old Samsung cellphone didn’t have a gyroscope sensor. The phone, however, told me it did and that the gyroscope sensor was working properly. So why was it hiding?

To correct the situation I texted Samsung tech support and without delay got a return text thanking me, blah blah blah, and requesting the specifics of my problem (with the phone—otherwise I’d have gone on and on). I provided the specifics and after a couple of minutes the Samsung tech provided the solution.

Trouble is, the solution didn’t do anything to solve the gyroscope sensor problem but it did disable the phone function of the cell phone. So I texted again and got another tech who knew how to solve the compounded problem. But he or she made it even worse by disabling the wi-fi.

I was able to reconnect the wi-fi myself. And I couldn’t figure why the phone was showing up intermittently and I was able to text, which was a function of the phone. None of this anomalous malfunction fazed the third Samsung tech. But out of the blue a text from a fourth tech appeared.

This one arranged a call-back Tuesday morning—on my land line, of course. Samsung called at the appointed time—10 a.m. on the dot. When I picked up, there was a recorded message thanking me for scheduling the tech call but telling me support wouldn’t be available because it was outside of normal business hours.

So I did the unthinkable and phoned the Samsung tech support number. And—mirabile dictu!—I actually got through to a nice tech called Helen. She was very apologetic and walked me through a procedure that took several minutes. To kill time, we schmoozed. Helen was in Manila, which I had kind of guessed, and was 33 and engaged to be married.

After the schmooze, she couldn’t believe the fix she had read off her screen had no effect at all. So she went to another screen and was able to ascertain the problem. Guaranteed. The ancient (in digital years) Consumer Cellular SIM card had given up the ghost. Replace it and all will be right with the world. She knew there was nothing wrong with the Samsung phone.

Meanwhile, my cynical son (I have no idea where he got that from) had reminded me that not only do the techs not know anything they can’t read off screens, but they don’t give a damn either. He, being digitally literate, had already surmised the phone was ready to be cremated anyway. Like Hroðgar the computer and me.

But I, being whatever I am, went to the nearest Consumer Cellular outlet to try out a new SIM card. That was Target in Torrington, where the phone had been set up in antediluvian times. In modern times, however, no phone techs there on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. It was hard to find any staff at all in the store.

But I managed to waylay an assistant manager who told me Target staff couldn’t do anything with cell phones except sell them in the sealed packages. She couldn’t even sell me a SIM card, which Consumer Cellular would give me with no charge.

Since I didn’t know if I’d even be alive come Thursday, I impetuously bought a new phone, which could be returned if I didn’t like it. All I needed to get it going, after all, was a SIM card. And I had that. If the new phone worked, the old SIM card was okay; if not, Helen from Manila was right.

When I got home, I carefully deboxed the new phone and, without charging it, installed the old SIM card.

So I paired the new phone with my old car and new computer this morning. The SIM card was fine. The Samsung experts screwed up the poor old phone. The new one has some nice toys in it, so I’ve decided to keep it even though I’ll have to forgo at least two months of eating to pay for it.

Oh yes, twice yesterday and just a few minutes ago I received calls from Samsung on my land line telling me support wouldn’t be available. And a text message on the new cell phone asking me to complete a survey . . .