Oh, Motorola L512BT. What a beautiful phone you are! So sleek and minimal, I just adore looking at you. And even talking on you was a pleasure. Your tone was so clear and crisp! Your buttons were soft but also responsive. And that ring... not brassy and intrusive, but soft and inviting. "Hello? Sorry to disturb you, but you have a phone call. If you'd wish to answer it, pick up my smooth, light, velvety body and speak into my gently concave mouthpiece."
Your footprint was so tiny it was practically nonexistent. And the setup was easy, too. It was a delight to program numbers and see them appear on your warm, glowing face. Everything about you was so lovely that I hoped the honeymoon would never end. But then, just as a bride rounds a corner and catches her bridegroom with a slutty bridesmaid, you turned.
Somebody called and left me a message on you, and that's when the betrayal began. Not only could I not retrieve the message (which you cruelly informed me via that now-hateful face) but you informed me that the memory was full and that I should delete some messages! How could that be? After all, only one person had left a message. Could the memory possibly be full because of one message? Hmm. So I tried to play the message but you wouldn't let me! And then I tried to delete the message but you wouldn't let me do that, either.
Why, Motorola L512BT? WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?
Yet still, I loved you. So I used your smooth, velvety body to call Motorola Phone, erm, Phone Support. Oh, I tried using the newfangled computer machine to ask some poor foreign person if THEY could help me, but alas Motorola only offers support on their spiffy Droid cellphones. Rats! So I used you, and I called. Two Motorola "customer support" people "accidentally" hung up on me when I told them what you were doing. Of the four people I talked to, two of them had no idea what was wrong with you. One utterly CHARMING lady insisted that I had voicemail through my phone company, and that was why you wouldn't give me my messages. She called you a "smartphone," which really meant, "What are you, stupid? Just let the phone do its jazz." When I informed her that I did NOT have voicemail through my phone company, she charmingly read the exact same sentence again in the exact same words. Adorable! However, not helpful, and decidedly wrong. The fourth person was actually helpful and seemed to care about you. He told me that you had a "bad icon," which almost made me weep. How could something as beautiful as you have a bad icon, whatever that is? So he told me I should reset you, and explained how.
THIS WOULD DO IT. I knew it. You would be reset, and then you would love me again. I waited with bated breath -- not "baited" breath, as so many people like to write -- and plugged you back in. And then you know what happened, Motorola L512BT? YOU TOLD ME YOUR MEMORY WAS FULL AND THAT I HAD TO ERASE SOME MESSAGES! You didn't reset at all. You just cunningly went to sleep and waited, knowing that I would be certain you were working. And then you laughed at me and flashed that hideous message.
I had only two options left. I sent an e-mail to Motorola "customer support" informing them of your failure and telling them why I would never, ever buy any other Motorola products, even though I was considering a Droid when my cellphone contract is up in a few weeks. And then I ripped you out of the wall, jammed you back in the box, found the receipt and took you back to Fry's to exchange you for the square, unattractive, unimaginative but thankfully OPERATIONAL Panasonic.
I'll never forget you, Motorola L512BT. But I will curse your name forever, even as a single, trembling tear cascades from the corner of my eye.