s t a r m | s t July 2nd, 2007
There are many types of anger.
The childish I-don’t-want-to-friend-you! anger, the loud I’ll-shout-if-I-want-to-and-I-don’t-care-who’s-looking kind, the bitch fit, the show-attitude anger, the strong silent type, the sulky yes-something-is-wrong-but-I-don’t-want-to-say-it-until-you-ask kind, the lethal-icy-chilly-stare-calmly-say-cutting-words-meant-to-slice anger - to name a few.
This evening, mine was the icy one.
After waiting an hour for my turn to send my phone in for a check and problem solving, the service guy merely took one look at the phone, didn’t bother to do anything, and said “ok, we’re going to have to upgrade the software and please note that all your data will be gone.”
What the.
Ok, totally unexpected. Couldn’t he try to do something? Test it? Troubleshoot? Back up the data first? What’s a damn memory card for if not for storing information? Something? Anything? Nothing?
“Oh, we cannot back up. We don’t do that here.” he replied indifferently.
What not here? If it’s not at Nokia, then where else can it be done at, you imbecile.
All contacts, gone. All the pictures, gone. And my 430 messages, gone.
Contacts, I can retrieve again since I’ve backed some of them up. But pictures? The pictures of xtomicers, the pictures of me and him. And my messages. My precious messages. How does one back up messages?? Or maybe there is a way but I’m not aware of it. All that I hold close to my heart - encouraging messages from friends, special ones from special people, and the hundreds from L - all torn away from me, with a flash of the screen. [I don't want anyone commenting shite sayings like 'it's a sign to move on' or 'it's meant to be' or any equivalent, I'm not in the mood for that.]
He started to display some kind of defensive attitude-y attitude, which rankled me even further. *bristle angrily* I don’t like to shout. Only my family, Ichitaka and Iv-bro have seen me raise my voice [significantly] before. But because I didn’t shout / make a scene, the suppressed tempered anger came out another way - cold, chilling, lethal. I said things to the guy. Calmly. With as little sarcasm as possible. As reasonably as I could. But the words slice, they cut, they sting, they pierce. Even I winced at my tone and words after walking away from the place.
Maybe my anger is misdirected and overly extreme, but I don’t think it is without cause.
Thing is.. when I was done, it wasn’t clear who looked closer to tears - me, knowing that a bulk of my [half-tangible] memories will be taken away from me against my will, or the poor guy, having suffered the wrath of my Senbonzakura-like anger.
