Taylor Bell is a senior at East. This is her second year on staff and her first year as a staff photographer. Along with The Harbinger, she is on the swim team and gymnastics team. Read Full »
This is not a complaint letter. It’s not an “I-hate-your-product” letter. This is a letter of the highest regards towards you and your fellow OtterBox makers. Before I get ahead of myself, let me start from the beginning.
It was a warm August day. I was driving my silver Beetle down Pflumm, when I glanced down at my dash and realized, oh no! I’m out of gas. I stopped at the nearest gas station stuck the pump in and whipped out my phone for a quick little dose of Pinterest. Once I doled out $40 for fuel, I hopped in my bug and turned onto Shawnee Mission Parkway and headed on my merry way.
I arrived at my humble abode, locked my little car with a “Beep Beep!” and skipped inside. And then? Terror. I slapped my pockets and rifled through my bag. Where was my phone?
I checked my bag, I checked my car, and my poor little iPhone was nowhere to be found. I retraced my steps and… oh no. The last place I had my phone was the gas station parking lot. This was bad.
Let me just take a moment to enlighten you about the traumatic experience that is a teenage girl losing her phone. When a 17-year-old female loses her phone, she not only loses her connection with everything, she also loses her apps, her photos, her contacts, her text messages, her updates and tweets and Candy Crush and…you get the point. It’s not just inconvenient, it’s catastrophic.
So I recruited my dad and sister, and we set off on our journey to recover the lost treasure. As we turn onto Shawnee Mission Parkway I realized in horror: I set my phone on top of my car while I was getting gas. That means it could have fallen off anywhere. Our search continued in a different manner; we scanned the streets, searching for the red case.
With no luck on the streets, we pulled up to the gas station and scoured the lot. We went inside, we went outside, we went around and under yet we still found nothing.
After turning the gas station upside down, we decided to try our luck scanning the streets on the way home. We piled glumly into the car and turn on to Shawnee Mission Parkway. We got a mere 30 feet away when something caught my eye: a red glint in the street. Could it be? Could it be the precious gem we came all this way to find?
We pulled over and my brave father ran towards the road, he was two feet away when he jumped back, as a black truck zoomed by, without even a bump, as it rolled over my phone. I cringe. My dad grabbed the phone with caution. He peeked at the screen and his face goes blank.
“It’s gone,” I said to myself. “Dead.”
I looked at my dad through the windshield, his right hand making a fist. But his thumb began to ascend, until it stood straight: a thumbs up.
My jaw dropped. A thumbs up? That meant that my phone was ok! My dad slid into the driver’s seat and handed me the victim. I looked it over. The screen protector was about to fall off, the case was a mess, but the phone? Not a crack. Not a single dent.
I gazed off into the horizon. My phone survived Shawnee Mission Parkway and walked away with only a few tire tracks. No one can defeat the OtterBox.
So you see OtterBox, I would like to thank you for your amazing product. My phone survived numerous cars running over it at 50 mph. OtterBox is the only iPhone case I will ever use. It’s armour has saved many a soldier in countless battles, and for that I thank you.