Shameful confession: I am the deadbeat dad of cellphones.
At least the first one wasn't my fault. I had my cheap flip phone in my tool belt, which was sitting on the utility trailer. When I came back, I found the tool belt still on the utility trailer, but also under a running generator manifold. My phone was -- I kid you not -- a puddle of molten plastic with some decorative circuit boards in it.
The second one learned that it couldn't survive a 40 km/h landing on a stripped-for-construction highway. Well, maybe it had a chance, but we'll never know, because it certainly couldn't survive the 190-pound man who landed on top of it at exactly the same speed.
The third one did not enjoy a cold mug of Lapsang Souchong one little bit. Not even after eight hours. It did smell pleasantly like smoked pine afterwards, though.
My current smartphone sometimes lives in a cheap silicase. This is the only case I have ever found for it, because the contractor-grade Samsung Galaxy Rugby LTE is already a beefy son of a bitch without a case. It's doing really well, too. At this rate, it'll be my first phone to survive an entire contract.