My little mobile dinosaur was one of those flippy phones with no data plan and texts that cost me 20 cents to send and 20 cents to receive. People could send me photos at $1 a pic, and odds were increasingly great that I couldn’t decipher the expensive communique through the teensy screen, even if I took my glasses off. The odds were even greater that I would grrr and grumble at having to pay to see a pic of an excited friend’s new pedicure.
Our cell phone bill was in the double digits and I would brag to confused ears about our minimalist calling plan that was grandfathered in years ago when Verizon decided to ditch it since phones are rarely used to exchange voices anymore.
My delight in being antiquated was a bit surprising since I was once pretty cutting edge with technology when we lived in California. Being an Early Adopter of Webvan and Netflix and Pets.com was part of the culture in the Bay Area in the late ‘90s. As much as knowing that real Zinfandel is red not pink.
Many of our friends back then were in the tech industry, so they were way ahead of me with things like Tivo and iPods. But outside the Tech Bubble of Silicon Valley, I was right there leading the way with the latest gadgety inventions and must-haves. Especially so when we moved to the boonies of Woodhaven which quaintly boasted both satellite TV and dial-up Internet! Oh, those pre-DSL years here were a struggle.
Now happily ensconced in life as a Late Adopter, people have tried to talk me into joining the world of having a tiny computer in my pocket. But I resisted. Largely because I knew the risk was great for me to become lost in the magic of being constantly connected to the internet and social media and emails and cat videos.
I had seen too many adult friends focusing more on their gadgets than their children. I had witnessed too many couples sitting quietly at restaurant tables staring into their phones instead of each other’s eyes. I had been astounded at the near-reflex addiction of friends not being able to resist “checking in” for more than the length of a commercial break.
But then a few things happened.
Like the night Rob and I wanted to attend a community event and were sure we knew where the elementary school was…until we circled our tiny town three times and found every school but the right one. Our car’s GPS was useless because our town is just that small, so we found our tardy and annoyed selves parked in a McDonald’s parking lot, riding on their free Wi-Fi, and discovering on my iTouch that we had been tantalizingly close to the school on our first guess. We arrived at the event a half-hour late and missed the main part we had wanted to see.
Or the night we were meeting my cousins in Portland for a very special awards ceremony at a very tricky location. Ginger was kind enough to text me the address (totally worth the 20 cents)…except that her phone was a lot smarter than mine and it tried to send it as a link to a mapping app. So all I got was a blank text and more frustrated.
And then the final moment was actually a series of them. During the bumpy ride of my recovery from my hysterectomy earlier this year, I had a very kind and compassionate and empathetic friend who checked in on me frequently. She was about a year ahead of me on the surgical fun and proved to be a critical source of comfort and information and deep breaths. Her words of wisdom and peace came via text and I was ecstatic to pay only 20 cents for the reassurance each one provided. But as I tried to respond, my frustration and anxiety escalated. Texting using a number pad and hitting each number the right number of times to produce the right letter got old realfast.
In something of a sudden but prolonged moment of clarity and released resistance, I decided It Was Time.
I did my due diligence and did quite a bit of research. Which is to say, I consulted two teenage girls and listened intently to their dissertations on Android versus iOS.
And then, on the evening of February 27, after exiting the store once to regroup from the shock of my special “You’ve Been a Verizon Customer Since Phones Had Pull-Out Antennas” upgrade fee (if that’s the discount, what do they charge new customers?!?), I finally caved.
Yep, that’s right. I’ve had a smarty pants phone since February. I was so embarrassed about it, I didn’t tell anyone. In fact, this right here is my first public admission.
Sure, a few people figured it out. One when she noticed an icon on her iPhone that indicated that my cell number was also connected to an iPhone. Another when I accidentally mentioned “FaceTime” without knowing exactly what I was talking about. Yet another when I sent a text…with a photo…to two people at once. And then a brother who noted I sent an unimportant text without commentary about paying 20 cents to do so.
It’s been an interesting four and a half months.
I have learned about apps and notifications and airplane mode and Instagram. I have had my brand new and largely unused Twitter account hacked by some manga-loving cyberbot in Japan (I am no longer a Twit). I have been able to text photos to contractors to verify the right shower head has been ordered. I have discovered the exciting world of emojis and now understand that that happy little pile of chocolate frosting is actually something quite different.
I have loved carrying around only one piece of technology that is my phone, my music, my calendar, and my address book. I have felt liberated being able to leave the house while waiting for an important email from the insurance company. I have loved standing in the dairy aisle of the grocery store with my recipe in hand and being able to verify that 1 cup of sour cream is pretty much an 8 ounce tub.
It has been wonderful to finally be in the loop with my in-laws. My lack of technology and self-imposed no texting rule long kept me outside quick notes about birthdays or sharing fun photos or knowing about elective but still significant surgeries. Joining in the conversation with them has felt a lot like finally changing my last name after 10 years of marriage.
A brother recently gave me a lesson in Siri via text. First, though, I had to Google how to find this voice-activated, freakishly helpful being lurking inside my phone. Rick taught me to ask Siri what her favorite color is, what 0 divided by 0 is, and to ask her to read me my last text (“Smiling pile of poo.”).
He also told me I could tell her what to address me as anytime we chat. Naturally, I got right on it and now my phone calls me “Hot Stuff.” Siri also insisted I tell her which of my Contacts is me. Being a bit of a privacy nut, I decided she really didn’t need to know that, so I just picked my first contact entry. So now, when I chat with Siri, she calls me Hot Stuff and she thinks I am AAA Septic. Seems fitting.
But I have also noticed a few not-so-great things.
Like, I am much more aware of my phone than I ever used to be. I always know where it is and how much battery it has left. I always seem to have it either in my hand, in my pocket, or within sight. This troubles me.
I have used it as a passenger in the car, thinking I was helping by checking traffic and nearby restaurants. But Rob told me it felt like I was disengaged from him and more engaged in my little screen. This troubles me.
I have been so focused on taking and posting a photo to Instagram that I have forgotten to be present in the moment I was so desperate to capture. This troubles me.
I have replied to a text while walking and, not paying attention to where I was placing my feet, stepped on a big stick and sprained my knee in a bad way. This troubles me. And literally pains me (seriously – it’s been 3 weeks and I am in physical therapy and am just starting to trust my knee again).
So I have turned off notifications so I don’t know when things are happening on my phone other than calls or texts. I have reduced my data plan by half so that I am forced to keep my surfing in check. I regularly put my phone in airplane mode during important events like meals and watching reruns of “The Love Boat” with Rob on the couch.
My fears about getting a smartphone in the first place were well-founded. I know myself pretty well. But I am encouraged that -- so far -- I have either recognized my fall or have been receptive to Rob’s commentary and I have made changes accordingly. I still feel like I need to be on alert, though. These smart phones are seductive. Especially when they flirt with you and call you Hot Stuff.
4 comments:
The key thing is, what you do with the device is a choice. It's easier to make bad choices with a smart phone than with a dumb phone, but it's still a choice. And it sounds like you're being intentional about it, which is the important part.
My rules are:
• No photo/video at live events (concerts, shows, etc.) unless Nancy isn't there and I want to share it with her. (Or, very occasionally, another friend or family member who has a specific connection to the event). If I do pull it out, it's for one shot, and then back to enjoying the event.
• Sound off at meetings and group events. (Usually on if it's just Nancy and me, but I'm unlikely to answer).
• When with others, only read/respond to texts with temporal components ("we're running late")
• Look at email only if I'm alone and bored, waiting for a specific email, or have been disconnected long enough that I need to check for urgent things. Don't respond to email unless absolutely necessary.
• Games only when alone and bored. Partial exception: Scrabble.
I was involved with a volunteer student group at Berkeley that ran computer systems for students, and the account form they had to sign read, "I agree not to be a hoser with this account." That's a good rule for any kind of device.
Yay! I am so happy that you are enjoying your new iPhone! It's become a necessity these days, so glad you are on board. Love the Grumpy Cat phone case :)
Congratulations.
After four-ish years of using a "smart" phone, I recently reverted to a do-nothing flip phone. If Kim would let me, I'd not have a cell phone at all. Cell phones, both smart and dumb, are easily the least-reliable devices I've ever used. I've never gotten in the habit of keeping it with me or remembering to turn it on.
Remember: A cell phone is just a surveillance device that (sometimes) also lets you make calls.
I truly laughed out loud at the chocolate frosting reference! That is the funniest thing I've read in a while...and though I've never viewed it that way, I have a whole new "appreciation" of that little pile of poo and will never be able to see it again the same way.
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