Any device’s full potential may often be unlocked by having a keen eye for the hidden gems beneath the surface; the iPhone’s hidden functions are no different.
Your iPhone has many hidden treasures that are just waiting to be discovered, from iMessage features to brighten every conversation to generation-specific features that maximize the technology in any particular iPhone.
A set of volume buttons is a characteristic that is common to all iPhone models. Unlike many Android phones, which only have one volume button, the iPhone has featured two different volume buttons since its original release.
The two buttons on the left side of the iPhone are used for functions other than volume control.
Like so many other locations, the phone’s buttons can be utilized for non-volume operations in addition to a few useful chores that can be accessed with their assistance.
Whether you’re a photography enthusiast seeking tactile finesse, a safety-conscious person needing quick access to emergency services, or someone who longs to have a physical snooze button again, the iPhone’s volume buttons offer a range of interactions that go far beyond their seemingly straightforward purpose.
When seconds count, the SOS feature on the iPhone helps users to rapidly summon help in an emergency.
By just holding down the side button and either volume button, the device can check the owner of the phone’s Medical ID or start an SOS emergency call.
Help is always available with this modest but impactful gesture, especially in difficult situations.
The SOS feature can also be triggered by quickly pressing the side button five times in a succession, however this needs the feature to be enabled in the settings.
The iPhone 14 Pro line enhances the iPhone’s powerful SOS features with satellite capabilities for scenarios when cellular connection is spotty.
When you make an SOS call, your phone notifies your approved emergency contacts of your location and the circumstances using the information you provide in the Medical ID section of the Health app.
With regard to Medical ID, users can store their emergency contacts, allergies, critical medical information, and other details in this function.
In an emergency, anyone can access this information. Even if your phone is locked, the Medical ID is still accessible for first responders’ use.
Switching off the power and more
Beyond emergency services, another important feature of the iPhone could be accessed by briefly depressing the side and volume down keys.
The menu that offers access to Medical ID and the emergency call slider is where you’ll find the power-off slider. Turning off the iPhone is done by using the designated slider.
Users may also use this screen to disable the Find My function on their phone when it is in sleep mode. Just below the power-off slider, there’s a popup to turn off Find My.
Find My Device will no longer work if the device’s setting is disabled through the power off menu; you will need to restart it and enter the passcode again to locate it.
This control layer significantly improves device security by granting users control over their location data even when their phone is off.
However, this feature is more intricate than it seems. Using the volume buttons to access the power-off menu has a security risk. The power off slider displays, briefly deactivating the Face ID and Touch ID functions.
This ensures the gadget can’t be turned off and prevents someone else from being able to forcibly access it when locked.
controls for the camera
Contemporary smartphones are renowned for their capacity to swiftly and effortlessly capture moments, with the iPhone outperforming rival flagship devices in terms of camera capability.
One of the more widely known features of smartphone camera apps is the ability to use volume controls.
While some Android devices allow users to zoom in, the primary purpose of the volume keys on the iPhone is to capture images.
Instead of fumbling with the on-screen shutter button, users may snap instant images by simply pushing the volume up or down button.
This small function mimics the feel of a traditional camera, offering a cozy, tactile experience that some users might find more acceptable.
Moreover, this feature is not limited to shooting photos. To start recording a video, you can also utilize the camera app’s volume buttons.
Because it provides users with control and stability during the process, allowing them to grasp onto the device steadily and capture dynamic footage, this function is very handy for recording video material.
A video recorder’s volume buttons are helpful for purposes other than merely starting a recording. If the iPhone’s camera app is still set up to capture images, you can use either volume button to begin a quick shot movie.
Users merely need to release the button to stop recording. You may also press and hold the volume up button to switch it to “Photo Burst” in the Settings app.
The Notes app’s document scanning feature and the Camera app both utilize the volume buttons for taking photos.
When scanning a document into the iPhone, users do not have to wait for the device to properly frame the document. As an alternative, you can snap a picture of anything that’s visible in the scanner’s viewfinder by pressing either volume button.
With enough time and work, such scans can be edited to appear as precise as what the iPhone can accomplish automatically.
Alarm mechanisms
It can be a surprising habit to turn off the alarm in the morning. Apple has given its users the chance to go back in time to a simpler time when they are trying to snooze their alarm in the morning.
You can immediately stop the alarm when it goes off by using the volume up or down button. This will spare you the trouble of looking for the on-screen button and give you some alone time while you get ready for the day. This method of using the volume controls also applies to vibrating, quiet alarms.
Using the volume buttons to snooze occasionally proves to be more convenient than reaching for the snooze or smaller dismiss button first thing in the morning.
Similar to the snooze button, the volume buttons are likewise simpler to reach in the early morning mist.
Slapping the enormous snooze button on an equally gigantic alarm clock radio combo doesn’t exactly feel the same.
Remember that you must first ensure that snoozing is enabled before using the volume buttons to snooze an alarm.
If the snooze setting is not enabled for an alarm, the volume buttons will simply refuse it. The alarm is programmed to sound again at the next specified time.
Turning off phone calls and locating my
Picture this: a quiet moment or a crucial meeting cut short by a ringing phone. It doesn’t happen very infrequently. It’s simple to periodically forget to switch off your phone or even to switch it back on by accident.
The volume buttons on your iPhone soon create a barrier between you and anyone close and the ringtone you’ve selected when you receive one of these unpleasant robocalls. In far harsher situations, you can use the power button to reject or end a call.
The ringing phone can be muffled with a single press of either volume button. Using the volume button to end an unwanted call makes sense.
Controlling Find My notifications on the iPhone also heavily relies on the volume buttons.
The iPhone uses new buttons to secure your relationships and belongings in a world where those things are vital.
The position of your second Apple device can be found by pressing either volume button quickly to quickly muffle the otherwise loud warning when something close sends out a Find My notification.
As a result, receiving notifications is more manageable.
App features
Despite Apple’s best efforts to stop it, iPhone volume buttons can be utilized as tools for other app interactions.
the inventive usage of volume buttons in non-Apple apps—a feature that is usually free from Apple’s stringent constraints despite its usability.
By using this repurposing, a number of software developers have provided users with instantaneous shortcuts or actions, providing a haptic and seamless alternative to traditional on-screen taps.
One particularly straightforward approach is to utilize a counter app that allows users to tick up or down dependent on whether they use the volume up or down button.
However, employing volume buttons in non-Apple apps is a technique that should be utilized cautiously due to Apple’s app development constraints.
Maintaining a consistent user interface and preventing hardware control abuse—which can possibly mislead users or obstruct normal interactions—are given top attention in these standards.
Apple usually forbids developers from altering the functionality of hardware buttons in their apps as a result.
While some programs are able to effectively integrate volume button functionality while adhering to Apple’s standards, these instances are still quite uncommon due to the challenges these constraints pose.
Not only can developers not modify the behavior of the volume buttons, but users are also not allowed to use the volume buttons to run commands that were developed within the Shortcuts app.
But not everyone has been deterred by that. The volume buttons on your phone can theoretically be used to create shortcuts, but doing so involves using a complicated workaround function that connects an action to the volume.
Restart with force
At some time, everyone has either attempted or heard the sage advise to simply turn their device on and off again. Using the volume buttons to force an iPhone reset is a quick and simple solution in many cases.
When the device becomes unresponsive, sluggish, or has software problems, this can function as a reset to help restore it to a better state.
Users can force a restart by simultaneously pushing and holding the side button, the volume up and down buttons, and the volume down button.
The volume buttons here can be used to reach the shut-down menu, but the iPhone can also be turned off without the need for a slider by holding down the side button.
After turning off their phone, users still need to push and hold the side button down until they see the Apple logo on the screen.
My Fiancée Vacuumed Up and Threw Away My Dead Mother’s Ashes from the Urn
I treasured my mother’s ashes for three years after her death. Her urn was that one sacred thing I asked my fiancée to never touch. But in her rush to make our home spotless, my fiancée vacuumed up the ashes, threw them out with the trash, and hid the truth from me.
Does the death of a loved one mean they’re gone from us forever? My mother Rosemary was my sun, moon, stars, and everything in between. After her death, I still felt her presence through the urn that held her ashes. Until the day my fiancée decided to “clean” our apartment, and my world shattered all over again.
An older lady’s framed photo, an urn, and glowing candles on a table | Source: Midjourney
The evening air was thick with memories as I stood in our living room, touching the silver frame that held Mom’s favorite photo.
She wore her favorite white dress and smiled at the camera, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
It had been five days since the accident that killed Mom, but some days, the pain felt as fresh as the morning I got the call from the hospital.
A man holding an older woman’s framed photo | Source: Midjourney
“Hey, Christian,” my sister Florence called from the couch. She had moved in after Mom passed, and her presence helped fill the echoing emptiness of my heart.
“Remember how Mom would always say grace before dinner, even if we were just having cereal?”
I smiled, running my finger along the frame. “Yeah, and remember how she’d catch us sneaking cookies before dinner? She’d try to look stern but end up laughing instead.”
A sad woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
“God, the way she’d put her hands on her hips,” Florence said, wiping her eyes. “Like she was trying so hard to be mad at us.”
“‘Lord give me strength!’” we said in unison, mimicking Mom’s exasperated tone, and for a moment, it felt like she was there with us.
The front door opened, and my girlfriend Kiara walked in, her footsteps hesitant. She’d been like that since Mom died, always hovering at the edges of our grief, never quite knowing how to step in.
A woman in the hallway | Source: Midjourney
“I picked up dinner,” she said, holding up a takeout bag. “Chinese. From that place you like, Christian.”
“Thanks,” I replied coldly. Something had changed between us since Mom’s death. It was like a wall had grown where there used to be an open door.
Two weeks after the funeral, I came home early from work to find Kiara packing a suitcase. The sight stopped me cold in the doorway.
“Where are you going?” I asked, though the answer was written in every careful fold of clothing she placed in the bag.
A woman packing her clothes | Source: Pexels
She didn’t look up. “I need some time, Christian. This… all of this… it’s too much.”
“Too much? My mother died, Kiara. What did you expect?”
“I don’t know how to help you!” She finally met my eyes, her own filled with tears. “You cry every night. You spend hours staring at her pictures. You and Florence keep talking about memories I wasn’t part of, and I feel like an outsider in my own home.”
“So your solution is to leave? When I need you most?”
A sad man looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
“Please try to understand—”
“Understand what? That my girlfriend of four years can’t handle a few weeks of grief? That you’d rather run away than support me?”
“That’s not fair!” Kiara’s hands trembled as she folded another shirt. “I’m trying my best! But it looks like you’ll take forever to move on, Chris.”
“Your best?” I grabbed the shirt from her hands. “Your best is packing your bags while I’m at work? Not even having the decency to tell me to my face that you care more about yourself than me… and my grief?”
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“I was going to call you—”
“Oh, that makes it so much better!” I threw the shirt across the room. “What happened to ‘I’ll always be there for you’? What happened to ‘we’re in this together’?”
“I’m not equipped for this, Christian. I can’t be what you need right now.”
“I never asked you to be anything but present, Kiara. Just to sit with me, to hold my hand, to let me know I’m not alone. But I guess that’s too much to ask, isn’t it?”
A distressed man with a woman | Source: Pexels
She picked up her suitcase, her shoulders shaking. “I’m staying with my friend Shannon for a while. I’ll text you. I just… I need space to figure this out.”
“Figure what out? How to be a decent human being? Go ahead, run away. It’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?”
Kiara left without saying anything.
Florence moved in the next day, bringing with her the comfort of shared grief and understanding. We spent evenings looking through old photo albums, crying together, and laughing at memories of Mom’s terrible dancing and amazing cooking.
A man watching a woman leave with her bag | Source: Pexels
“She would have hated this,” Florence said one night, gesturing at the takeout containers littering our coffee table. “Remember how she used to say fast food was ‘the devil’s cooking’?”
“But she’d still take us to McDonald’s after doctor appointments,” I added, smiling at the memory. “Said it was ‘medicinal French fries.’”
“Chris, did Kiara call?”
“Nope! Just texted. You know, I stayed with her through her father’s illness, her bad days, her everything. And yet here I am, alone in my own grief. I needed her, but maybe she just didn’t love me enough.”
An upset an sitting on the couch | Source: Pexels
The only way Kiara contacted me was through texts like, “Hope you’re okay.”
I typed and deleted, “I needed you, Kiara.” But sent, “I’m managing. Thanks.”
A month after Kiara left, she asked to meet at our usual coffee shop. She sat across from me, looking smaller somehow, her hands wrapped around an untouched latte.
“Shannon’s boyfriend confronted me yesterday,” she hesitantly began. “Called me selfish and cold-hearted. Said I abandoned you when you needed me most.”
A woman in a coffee shop | Source: Unsplash
I stayed silent, watching her struggle with the words.
“He was right,” Kiara continued. “I’ve started therapy, Christian. I want to be better. I want to learn how to be there for you, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”
“How do I know you won’t leave again?” I asked, the fear raw in my voice.
“Because I love you,” she replied, reaching across the table. “And I’m learning that love means staying, even when it hurts. Even when you don’t know what to say or do. I’m sorry for being a jerk.”
A woman holding a man’s hand | Source: Unsplash
Life settled into a new pattern after that. Kiara moved back in, and three years later, we started planning our wedding.
Mom’s urn remained on its special table in the corner, surrounded by her photos and her plastic rosary — the one she’d carried everywhere, even to the grocery store.
“We should divide the ashes,” I suggested to Florence one evening. “You could have half.”
She shook her head, touching the urn gently. “No, let’s keep them together. It’s what Mom would have wanted.”
An urn on a shelf | Source: Midjourney
I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes as I thought about Mom and how much I’d miss her at my wedding. I’d already decided: the urn with her ashes would have a special spot in the front row of the church. It would make me feel like Mom was there, blessing me as I took this important step in my life.
The wedding planning consumed our days. And Kiara seemed different. She was more present and understanding.
She held me when the grief hit unexpectedly, sat through stories about Mom without fidgeting, and even asked questions about her sometimes.
Grayscale shot of bridal accessories | Source: Pexels
Then, the call from Florence came on a Tuesday evening, just three days before my wedding. “Hey, Chris? I was wondering if I could have Mom’s rosary. The plastic one? I found a photo of her holding it, and—”
“Of course,” I said, moving toward the urn. “Let me just—”
The words died in my throat as I opened it. Inside, where Mom’s ashes should have been, sat a Ziploc bag filled with… SAND? The rosary lay beside it, exactly where I’d left it three years ago.
The front door opened, and Kiara walked in carrying shopping bags. One look at my face, and hers drained of color.
“What did you do to Mom’s ashes?” I asked.
A man pointing a finger | Source: Pexels
She set the bags down slowly, her hands trembling. “Honey, it’s not what you think. I didn’t do it intentionally—”
“What did you do, Kiara?”
A long silence followed. Then she confessed, “I was cleaning while you were at work a few months ago. The apartment needed a deep clean, and—”
“And what?”
“I picked up the urn to clean the table and accidentally dropped it. It shattered. I quickly assembled the ashes into a bag. But the bag tore. The ashes spilled onto the carpet. I… I panicked. I vacuumed them up and threw the ashes into the trash outside.”
My knees buckled. “You vacuumed my mother’s ashes and threw them in the trash?”
A woman using a vacuum cleaner | Source: Pexels
“I didn’t know what to do. I got some sand from the park nearby. Found a replica of the same urn in the antique shop downtown. I filled it up with the sand. I… I thought you’d never open it again.”
“Never open it? You thought I’d never want to see my mother’s ashes again?”
“I was trying to clean the house. It was just an accident.”
“Clean?” I slammed my hand against the wall. “Those weren’t dust bunnies under the couch, Kiara! That was my mother! The only physical piece of her I had left!”
A shocked man | Source: Midjourney
“I’m sorry, Christian!” she sobbed. “I wasn’t thinking!”
“Clearly!” I picked up the urn, cradling it to my chest. “You weren’t thinking when you decided to ‘clean’ around the one thing I specifically asked you never to touch. You weren’t thinking when you vacuumed up my mother’s remains like they were dirt. And you certainly weren’t thinking when you replaced them with sand and lied to my face for months!”
“Please, Christian, we can fix this—”
“Fix this? How exactly do you propose we fix this, Kiara? Should we go dumpster diving? Should we sift through garbage bags looking for my mother’s ashes?”
An emotional, teary-eyed woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll do anything—”
“Did you even try, Kiara? Did you even attempt to salvage anything? Or did you just panic and run to the park for sand, like you always run away when things get hard?”
Her silence filled the room like poison.
“That’s what I thought.” I started gathering Mom’s photos from the table before dumping the sand from the urn. “You know what the worst part is? I actually believed you’d changed. I thought all that therapy and all those promises meant something. But you’re still the same person who left me when my mother died. You’re still running from the hard stuff.”
Close-up shot of an angry man yelling at a woman | Source: Pexels
“Our wedding’s in three days. Please… I’m sorry. Don’t leave me. Where are you going, Christian?”
“Away from you!” I grabbed my keys and things. “I can’t even look at you right now.”
Before stepping out, I looked back, hoping stupidly for a sign of regret. Anything to show she understood what she’d done.
But Kiara just stared at the floor, her face unreadable, and already distant. My chest tightened, and the last bit of hope drained out of me. Without another word, I turned and left, the empty urn heavy in my hands.
A man walking away with a suitcase | Source: Pexels
The hotel room I checked in felt sterile and cold. I sat on the edge of the bed, Mom’s photos spread around me. My phone buzzed continuously with messages from Kiara, but I couldn’t bring myself to read them.
How would I tell Florence? How could I explain that the last piece of our mother was likely buried in a landfill or blown away like dust because my fiancée treated her remains like dirt?
As dawn broke, I stared at the urn one last time, realizing I was left with only emptiness and betrayal.
A distressed man | Source: Pexels
Things would never be the same, and I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to forgive my fiancée. Maybe I didn’t want to. Maybe I never could. But deep down, in a corner of my heart, I hoped my mother would forgive me.
I took the rosary, feeling the familiar smooth plastic under my fingers.
“The night before your accident, you made Florence and me promise to keep it safe, Mom. Said it would help us find our way when we felt lost,” I whispered, tears brimming in my eyes.
“Maybe that’s why you wanted us to have it. Because you knew that someday, we’d need something more than your ashes to hold onto.”
A man holding a rosary | Source: Pixabay
I clutched the rosary tighter, remembering Mom’s words, “Love isn’t in the things we keep, dear. It’s in the memories we make and the forgiveness we offer.”
I don’t know if I can forgive Kiara. Every time I close my eyes, I see Mom’s ashes being sucked away into nothing. How do you forgive something like that?
I stepped out onto the seashore nearby. The city lights blurred through my tears as I clutched the empty urn and rosary to my chest. A gentle breeze stirred, reminding me of how Mom used to say the wind carried whispers from heaven.
An emotional man’s eyes | Source: Unsplash
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said, looking up at the sky. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect your ashes. I had one job — to keep you safe. But I failed. But I want you to know… wherever you are… that you’re still here with me. In every breath I take, in every memory I hold, and in every prayer these beads have witnessed. I love you, Mom. I’ll love you until my last breath and beyond that. Please forgive me.”
The wind seemed to wrap around me like one of her warm embraces, and for a moment, I could almost hear her whisper, “There’s nothing to forgive, dear. Nothing at all. Love you too.”
Silhouette of a man standing on the seashore | Source: Pexels
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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