A DIFFERENT WORLD: The demise of 8102
One of you would spin me a heartbreaking yarn about not having a phone when you were young, and one of you wouldn't pay attention and would get hit by an oncoming car... maybe I shouldn't line you up in the street.
Why is it that so many of us can't remember what we had for dinner last night, but have no trouble remembering our childhood phone number? I believe it's because our parents faithfully instilled the number into our memory banks, usually by making us repeat it over and over before leaving for our first day of school.Plus, everywhere I looked I saw the phone number. My mother wrote it on my school bag, on each book, on my coat, and I believe she may have stitched it in my underwear, just to be safe. I was virtually surrounded by 431-4109.
I also committed my bus number (10) to memory, which makes me wonder why these topics aren't included as security questions when you sign up for something online. Companies typically ask rather dull questions like, "What was your favorite pets' name?" (Pixie), or "What street did you live on as a child?" (Oakwood) or "What was the name of the stinky boy in third grade who picked his nose and liked to draw spaceships?" (Scott, err, never mind).
At any rate, it was with great sadness that after 18-plus years of service, we recently retired our St. Charles phone number; 8102 (I'll spare you the prefix) had grown old and feeble, not to mention expensive and under-utilized.
Every member of the house has a cell phone, so the writing was on the wall for ol' 8102. My sons commented during 8102's eulogy that it was the only number they had ever known, and that they were going to miss it now that it had gone on to the big phone book in the sky.
I also spoke at the eulogy, reflecting on the great sadness I felt as I called the phone company to order the disconnection of 8102.
"Just make it quick," I instructed the phone representative. "It shouldn't have to suffer needlessly."
The phone rep then said as an alternative to disconnecting, I could subscribe to a different plan with a different number at a much cheaper rate, if I so desired.
"Please," I said somberly, "8102 is barely cold in the grave and you expect me to callously just throw away everything my family and I shared with it and get a new number just to save a few measly dollars? What kind of heartless, unfeeling person do you take me for?"
She then offered me a $50 gift card and threw in free long distance, so I accepted the new plan and new number.
But the new number can't access as many numbers in the metropolitan area as 8102 could. It can't ID callers, nor can it forward calls. Put simply, I knew 8102, and this new number is no 8102.
Rest in peace, my friend. Ye served us well.
Scott Beck of St. Charles is a Web page specialist for a health foundation in St. Louis. He writes a semimonthly column for the Journal.
