Cell phone - who owns whom?
I took the radical act today of shutting down my phone and putting it in a drawer just to get away from it. I needed a “staycation” from my phone. Last week, disrupted by back trouble (the reason why I didn’t write a column), I was on my phone for hours every day. It was a little horrifying to see how many hours I was on it.
Shutting it off was relaxing. It made me realize how often I check the damn thing, a habit that can only lead to the speedy deterioration of what remains of my mental health.
I subscribe to four newspapers, a habit left over from when I worked at newspapers and had access to at least a half dozen to read every day.
But those were the days when I didn’t worry about democratic institutions because, heck, I worked at a democratic institution - the Fourth Estate - and we were doing absolutely fine, thank you. That was then, of course, a very different era. I don’t remember the act of reading the newspaper being so depressing way back when, but it might be that I was younger and much more optimistic.
At any rate, with my cell phone in a drawer I realized that it has an unnerving habit of telling me whether or not I am meeting my goals.
I didn’t choose these goals, mind you. They are the brainstorm of a computer algorithm that I had absolutely no say about.
I’m not one for computer games except solitaire and Words With Friends. Since Facebook - known as Meta - bought Words With Friends the prompts throughout the game have gotten downright annoying. Goals, again. No, I really don’t have a goal of finding new players to verbally spar with, thanks very much. I have my friend Cynthia and a nice middle school teacher from Louisiana. That’s it.
No, I tell the game, I don’t have a goal of a certain score, or achieving an artificial tier status that means absolutely nothing.
The same nagging holds with solitaire. No, I don’t have a goal of playing so many games in a month. Go away. Solitaire is strictly a tension reliever that helps me fall asleep at night.
Everything I do on the internet lately has a survey attached. If I order a pizza, see my doctor, or pay a credit card bill, the company sends out a survey. And you aren’t given a choice of simply saying “yes” or “no.” Quite frequently, the choice of filling out a survey or not is a button which says, “YES! I’ll help.” Or, “NO, I won’t help.” The company, which has intruded on my privacy, wants to make ME the bad guy.
Well, forget it. I may be Catholic, but I am way beyond some forms of guilt. This is one variation that won’t touch me.
Then, Facebook. Again. Every week when I log on, it says, “Maura, we care about you and want to share this memory from (2, 4, 6, 8, fill in the blank) years ago.”
That, of course, is a complete and total whopper. Facebook doesn’t give a flash-frozen rat’s ass about anyone or anything, least of all me, except for mining every scrap of information about me and everyone else that is possible to sell to the highest bidder. Facebook is also a complete time suck, which is why I took it off my phone years ago, so when I dabble on the site I do so from a desktop computer once or twice a week. At least that is one thing for which I do not use my phone.
Facebook doesn’t give a flash-frozen rat’s ass about anyone or anything, least of all me.
Sometimes getting away from cell phones is not our choice. About 15 years ago in my state of Connecticut we had a storm bad enough that it knocked out power to my neighborhood for around four days. We had no generator, but it was mild out, so we weren’t cold. Our cell phones stopped working after a day when the cell towers ran out of back-up power.
Since we had AT&T for phone service, and had telephone wires that worked without electricity, I dug out an old rotary phone, plugged it in, got a dial tone and showed my kids the mysteries of dialing an old phone if they needed to make a phone call. They stared at it as if it were a piece of equipment from another world, which I suppose it was.
Next, I had to finish a report and my laptop had run out of battery power, so I got one of my typewriters - my 1925 Underwood Number 5, as I recall — and typed my report the old-fashioned way. I was just thinking how satisfying was the sound of the clacking keys when my son Tim yelled, “Do you have to make so much racket!” Which gave me giggle fits.
Finally, we all read books at night. Real books, that we held in our hands.
It was lovely. Then the lights went back on and we were thrust once again into the attention economy.
Which brings me back to my cell phone, which is hardly a phone at all, but a mini-computer, ever present, ready to help me find the best route to the airport, take a picture, order a pizza, play solitaire, watch a video, read a newspaper, answer email, or listen to a book.
The weekly report of my cell phone tells me I am using this thing hours and hours every day. Which is keeping me from the rest of life.
And leads me to wonder: Do I own my cell phone, or does it own me?
I just got an android about 5 months ago. I'm a dinosaur and probably was the last one in my state to own one. I named it "Lucy Schlitz" because it drove me crazy. I thought I was typing Sh__, but she spelled if out for me that way. When I tried to send a text the letters bounced around like they were on steroids, and would finish a word with a word I wasn't trying to write...AI I guess...drove me crazy. I only want it for phone calls and texting, but it constantly fills up with updates and apps I "need" to click on and sign up. NO, emphatically. I finally learned how to delete them and block out phone calls that come in unknown. But, I am still reminded about my payments every month on my computer. I look at the phone and think, how often did I use this thing? I am down to a quality of friends, not a quantity. They still have my land phone number and know I will call them back if I don't answer. I now carry it in my car in case I have a problem on the road when I am alone. It's more of a frustration. Plug it in to recharge....why? I didn't miss it at all this week....or this month, for that matter. Or this year, actually. I read a hardback book or on my Kindle. I don't play any games excepts on my computer...solitaire. My mind is not in a good space to chit chat on the phone or be bothered by it. Not sure how long Lucy will be with me. She is just costing me $35/month and I can't figure out why I still put up with her.
It was almost a decade ago when I decided my "smart" phone needed to stay in the junk drawer unless I was traveling and then it functioned as a portable phone booth and road atlas. My phone is not my computer and since I can't type unless I am on a qwerty keyboard, I find it easier to NOT rely on my phone except in case of emergencies. I still have a landline, though not for much longer as they are being phased out. Here's to your radical act and more of 'em.