So Your Phone Doesn't Work

“Where are you going?”

“My phone doesn’t work so I’m going to the store.”

“Here use mine. Wait, mine isn’t working either!”

When Joe and Millie arrive at the Tacoma mall to talk to the Apple people, there is no parking and a line snaking around the entire mall. The mall covers 90 acres, and people surrounded it.

“What the heck?” Joe mumbles, and Millie begins her sentence-length swearing string of profanity.

“IknewtheseonsabitcheswouldtakeovertheworldandfuckitallupforeveryonebutIdidn’tcountonithappeninginmyoldageIwantedtoreachmyelderyearsinpeaceandquietandthesemofosareshittingusallouttheirbuttholesandcashininsothisgdapplestorebetterbeopenandfixwhatevertheeffinsonofabitchiswrongwithourphones!”

Joe sat quietly, waiting for her to finish. He waited two beats to make sure nothing else would flow, and when he was sure she was done, he got out, walked around to the passenger door, and opened it for her.

As they walked toward the mall entrance, he spit. He shouldered his way to the door, but it didn’t open, and people in line started shouting and cussing at him. He gave them all the finger and spit again. He could do that. He stands six foot seven and weighs three hundred pounds, all muscle, a lean, mean muscle machine, and he was super pissed. Millie yelled, “NOOOOOO,” but it was too late; his elephant-paw-sized fist hit the glass door, and cracks spread. The door stayed locked. Everyone cheered his effort. That is how Joe wins. He showed his strength in a good way, helping the underdog, in this case, all of us, and the crowd loved him.

The crowd was yelling in unison: “Open up you bastards, our phones don’t work.” Suddenly, someone yelled that he could see Apple employees inside their store near the mall's entrance, milling about in Apple shirts.

A crowd snaked around the T-Mobile building that sat in a side section of the mall’s parking lot. Someone threw a five-gallon bucket of paint at the door, and brick-red paint splattered everywhere, including on some of the parked cars. People beat the shit out of that guy, and everyone cheered. An old woman, limping, approached the beaten man and offered him a hand up. She dabbed his bleeding lip with her hanky and told the crowd they should be ashamed of themselves. One young guy stepped toward her, but she clocked him with her pocketbook, which probably weighed twenty pounds. The crowd cheered again.

“What the hell is going on here?” she demanded, her hands on her full hips. She straightened her hat and pointed her cane around the group. “Someone answer me.”

“Well, ma’am our cell phones don’t work.”

“So?”

“Well, we can’t call anyone. We can’t text or email. Nothing is working.”

“So?”

A young woman in a skirt so short you could see her butt cheeks and a midriff top that barely covered her breasts stepped in her white thigh-high boots toward the old woman.

Chomping her gum loudly, she leaned down, eye to eye with the matronly woman, and held out her phone. “See, granny, this don’t work. I can’t get my texts to come to work. I work several jobs, but they alert me with texts. No work, no pay. No phone, no texts. No texts, no alerts. No alerts, no work. See?”

The old woman nodded her head and said she’d be right back. A line snaked around the Verizon building near T-Mobile, and the line around the entire mall was now two people deep, weaving in and out of parked cars. Those in line waited politely and made new friends with others in line.

Granny came back and began shouting through her megaphone. “Turn on the phones. We need to text. We need alerts so we can work.”

Then Granny asked, “What comes next? If they don’t get the phones running, I mean?”

The crowd picked up where Granny left off and chanted “turn on the phones.” The parking lot seagulls flew several blocks away, where they could hear their own din, not people's. They couldn’t compete with that many voices. A few crows watched from the rooftops, but soon they flew away too. The chants continued, and Joe and Millie hoofed it over to T-Mobile to check out the commotion.

Millie grabbed the megaphone and strung together another new tirade: “Listenupyousonsabitcheswearen’ttaking yourcrapolaanymoreyougetournetworkupandourphonesworkingoryouwon’tlikewhatcomesnext.”

Hours had passed, and since the Apple folks had access to the mall food court, they weren’t hungry. T-Mobile and Verizon clerks locked inside their small buildings could smell the food odors wafting from Buffalo Wild Wings and Jersey Mike’s but didn’t dare step outside. The crowd was antsy and angry. Millie and Joe bought wings and sandwiches for 50 people and encouraged them to eat in front of the standalone cell company buildings. Inside, the employees stared out of the glass doors, some crying. People ate while holding up their dead cellphones to the employees.

For days, the crowd fed each other in the parking lot, using snacks from their cars or nearby fast-food places. No one left for long; others saved their places. More disgruntled people kept coming. The newbies brought food and drinks to share; they had heard of the Great Lock-in at the Tacoma Mall. The 1200-person line grew exponentially and widened to three people deep, encircling the property. 

Soon Macarena lines formed to music blaring from the cars. A man decided to host a battle of the bands, pitting his love of country music against the Motown folks. They couldn’t stream their music from their phones, but they dialed in through the radio stations, car doors open, each genre group tuning to the same channel. “My Girl” by The Temptations played against “All American Girl” by Carrie Underwood. All groaned when commercials played between songs. Everyone laughed and had a great time. The weather held with sunny skies blessing the bereaved cellphone users.

An older man came with a short-wave radio, and people listened to the news. The entire world was knocked off cell service.

Then came the reason everyone wanted but truly didn’t.

Solar flares hit locations around the world. But the day that all cell service became disrupted – okay, let’s call it what it is - obsolete - was when the majorsolerupter hit the magnetic poles of the Earth. On July 4th, the entire cell service infrastructure fried.

Granny shrugged and hollered: “It’s okay, folks. We didn’t have microwaves when I was a kid, and we only had wired telephones. We went to the payphone boxes, put a dime in the telephone coin slot, and called someone. Long-distance calls were connected via Operators, and cost more. Some places had what were called “party lines,” and they could pick up and listen to a neighbor’s phone call. I did that with my aunt, but we had to be sneaky because sometimes the other person heard you pick up! We mailed letters with stamps, even to foreign countries. We didn’t need WhatsApp or any encryption because we talked face to face.” 

Millie grabbed the megaphone: “Listen to Granny. We’re okay. We’ll figure it out. Meantime, we’ll watch a movie out here under the stars.” Joe and his movie-theater friend brought an old movie reel and projected it onto the side wall of the mall building. Another movie-theater worker brought a rolling cart to make popcorn. He used real butter. They walked to the World Market store, bought Amish popcorn to pop, and folded paper towels into cone holders for those who wanted some. Everyone shared the lawn and sidewalks; some sat on car hoods with the owner’s permission. 

Joe felt bad for the Verizon and T-Mobile folks, so he gave them pizza, chicken wings, and Jersey Mike’s sandwiches with a large bottle of water and soda. He knew Apple folks were just fine, so he didn’t cross back over to that mall door.

Sure, during the long days, a few fistfights broke out, and the usual jostling happened in the lines, but for the most part, people had a good time. Rules were set for this little society: no alcohol, drugs, vaping, smoking, fighting, cutting the line, racing cars in the lot, or using the area as a toilet. All food must be shared, and music must be turned down at night.

The final rule was to let the workers come outside and feed them.

Everyone swore aloud: I will abide by the rules.

Then, on day 9 of the Lock-in, Granny took the megaphone. “Folks, we need to go home now, and let the workers out of the buildings. It’s not their fault. With no cellphones, we have to talk face-to-face.

She waved the workers outside. Joe banged on the mall door to get the attention of the special folk; you know, those Apple folks.

Verizon walked out in their dirty black T-shirts with orange logos, and T-Mobile lit up the area with their hot pink. Apple folks strolled out in jeans, sneakers, and oh-so-cool Apple-logo shirts that matched their attitudes. Someone cranked up the music, and another battle of the bands kicked off as the cellphone workers arrived. Droid versus Apple. A twerking contest ensued, but the crowd grew sad because they couldn't film and post in real time. Granny pulled out a Polaroid from her immense bag and took some photos. Something rolled out of the camera; she fanned it in the air to dry, and a picture appeared.

A little kid yelled, “Look, it’s magic!”

“So, James, that is the story of the day in 2026 that the cellphones stopped working. We all learned to live without them. People became happy again and collectively decided it was an industry no longer needed.”

Nine-year-old James smiled at his great-grandmother as she showed him the Polaroid photos.

               Copyright © 10/14/2026 by Andrea O. Corwin