I shattered my phone screen and I still didn’t buy a case.
I currently rock an iFunSIX®™©, which is not an endorsement of the phone (though if you DO want your company’s name here, holler at this dude. I will sell out for cash. #nobrandintegrity), but is an actual fact. It’s the fourth or fifth iteration of the Fruit Phone I’ve owned. Never once during any of those purchases have I felt the need to get an extended warranty or a phone case. Every single time I’ve declined those two options, I’ve had the exact same conversation with the exact same spray-tanned sales rep.
“Bro, so what case you looking at for this bad boy? “
“I’m good, I don’t need a case.”
“Woah, woah, woah. You’ve gotta check these cases out, man. We’ve got some great deals going on.”
“Naw, I’m good.”
“Okay, well we’ll at least set you up with the extended protection plan then. It’ll cover you for anything not outlined by the warranty. So if you drop your phone into a flaming volcano created from a mound of Beelzebub’s fiery shit, you’ll be good. It’ll only cost you 27 equal payments of blood. I do have to warn you though, it doesn’t protect against water damage, that’s a separate policy.”
“I think I’ll risk it.”
“Alright man, well if you change your mind at any point in time, we’re still totally willing to bleed you until your veins wheeze with dust.”
“I’ll be fine. Thanks anyway.”
It’s the same damn conversation every time. Same eye roll. Same exasperated sigh. Same shoulder-slouching sign of defeat when they realize I’m not tacking on to their commission this week. A similar conversation happens when random strangers see my phone. I always get the condescending “Oh no case, huh?” You know what, no. No case. Because I’m a cocky little shit and I know I’m not going to break my phone.
And I was right for a while. I didn’t break the screen on my iFunToo©™®, or my S.S. iFun 3-D™®©, or my iFun2Good2B4Gotten®®®, or any of the other iProductions I’ve purchased. Until last week.
Last week I finally shattered my phone. How? Great question, me. I missed my fucking pocket. That’s it! I just missed my fucking pocket when I was standing in a parking lot. Phone fell on the ground face down, crack, smash, bang, insert other Batman sounds here, and it was done for.
I tried to use it for a couple of days, but getting glass in your fingertips gets old really fast (I know what I’m lining the lid to the cookie jar with!). So I had to drive an hour and half to the nearest Fruit Phone Market and pay some overenthusiastic brain-washed cult technician to put new glass on my phone’s otherwise intact body. And guess what happened after they fixed my phone? If you guessed, “They tried to sell you a case,” congrats, you win a Fruit Phone Market cult logo branded into your forehead.
So, did I finally cave and get that titanium lock-box case, perfect for those times when you’re sixteen miles under water and in desperate need to add to your Snap Story? Fuck no!
But, Ben, surely you must have considered purchasing a case this time! Especially given your poor hand-eye coordination and the ever-increasing probability you’ll miss your fucking pocket again! Nope, sorry hypothetical question typing ghost, I did not. And for three simple reasons.
The first reason I hate because it’s math. Let’s assume a conservative estimate of $40 a phone case. Multiply that by five phones (I’m not factoring in any sudden desire I would theoretically have to redecorate my devices after being inspired by HGTV’s From Phone to Phone-nominal! Note: that’s not a real show. But it made you think.), and you’ve got $200 right there. I only spent $109 plus government mandated mall-tax on my screen. I’m still ahead. At least until I miss my fucking pocket again. But it’ll be close enough to that break-even point that whatever.
The second reason is bulk. The trend is phone design is the ever growing mobile, taking the handheld to the hands-held. I have no idea why we need to have flat screen TVs mounted into our front pockets, but it’s been great for the average tech geek’s pant bulge game. I’ve already started wearing skinny jeans – I really don’t need my piddling pocket space being devoured by an armor-plated device.
But the real reason, the final, get-down-to it motive for not buying a case? I’m a cocky little shit, and I know I’m not going to break my phone… again.
So yes, I shattered my phone screen and I still didn’t buy a case.