Getting to the office that fateful morning, everything felt like just another beautiful start to a productive day. The sun was out, the power was steady, and I was in high spirits.
As usual, as a user of Samsung phones for over two decades, I reached for my beloved Samsung phones, my loyal companions and gently plugged them in to charge. It was a familiar ritual. For more than 20 years, Samsung has never failed me. I had grown with the brand, explored every new feature and even converted a few friends along the way.
Unaware of what lay ahead, I dived into work responding to emails, calls, and reports. Everything seemed to be going well until something caught my eye.
Out of the corner of my vision, I noticed a faint blinking light from my Samsung Note. At first, I brushed it off. Maybe it was a notification, I thought. But something didn’t feel right.
Instinctively, I rushed over and unplugged the device, assuming it was a voltage issue. Nigeria’s electricity has its unpredictable moments, after all. But one closer look, and the narrative shifted drastically.
My trusted Samsung Note was unresponsive, the screen flickering like it was gasping for help.
Panic set in.
I tried everything:
🔁 Unplug.
🔌 Replug.
🔁 Hard reset.
🧼 Cleaned the ports and back panels.
Still nothing.
Just as I was mid-troubleshooting, a few colleagues walked into my office with questions. I attended to them, trying to appear composed, even though my mind was far away, with my Note.
As soon as they left, I dashed out and made my way to Computer Village - the tech capital of Lagos, the domain of phone gurus. Surely, someone there would revive my companion, I gently reassured myself.
One shop.
Another technician.
More plug-ins, system checks, cable swaps. Still, no life.
I sat there, quietly, staring at my phone.
“If only you could talk,” I whispered.
“If only you could tell me what’s wrong, we could fix this together.”
I wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet. I had performed magic with that S Pen , from sketching quick notes, to one-hand swipe feature, to navigating side tabs with one hand gesture, to showing off features like Air Gestures to my friends. It wasn’t just a phone, it was my assistant, my notebook, my camera, my gallery of memories.
Then came the verdict.
The technician, with a half-sympathetic smile, said:
“Madam… this one don go. You’ll need to get a new phone. The repair cost is too much -you can add a small money and buy another one.”
I felt like I had just lost a friend.
I nodded, but deep down, I wasn’t ready to part with it. I refused to throw it away. That phone now sits in my drawer, not as junk, but as a piece of my history. Archived. Honored.
Now and then, I glance at it and smile, still wondering:
"If only my phone could talk…"
Awesome friends and Hivians, if you were in my shoes, what would you have done differently? I would like to explore more suggestions. You know why? I am hopeful that one day, a solution to my phone will pop in.
Sincere apprexiation to @Ivyann for her suppprt. Her delegation of 10 HP made this post possible.
She has been a great support system since I joined this great platform.
