Majority of the days of the past two weeks, I’ve intentionally left my cell phone in a drawer in that desk inside my room. And it felt incredibly relaxing—it was great to say, “I am not available.” No tone, buzzer, or bloody tinny rendition of a pop hit disturbed my serenity. When I was happily strolling through the school’s greens, watching a movie, or Sato crash into Schumacky’s Ferrari, taking the train or a bath, I was not available. When I was eating, drinking, cuddling, thinking, I was not disturbed by a random pal sending me a rainbow quote. I just realized that what can be so urgent that it cannot hold on until I have returned to base? And this isn’t about not wanting to be a technophobe: I’ve an e-mail address; I’ve recently started the Mac habit and a bunch of useful digital devices, but enough—I’ve decided I will resign from the 24-hour surveillance.
Were I to rob a few banks or mug a couple of pensioners in some First World bla, chances are a judge would decide that I am a menace to society and must have an electronic tag put around my leg to track me wherever I go. Well, a mobile phone is little more than a self-elected tracking device, for which you pay a bill at the end of the month. It’s easy—any time, anywhere, everybody’s got your number, you’re always on call. If you’re a call boy, doctor, drug dealer or drone, sure, you need a mobile. If not, then join me and let us declare our independence by cutting the string to our personal cocoa tin.
My main objection to mobiles is that they have become a shrill interjection into precious time off. But there are plenty of other reasons to feel superior for not succumbing to this tawdry invention. Do you know how silly we all look walking down the street mumbling to ourselves like lunatics? Do you know how rude it is when somebody interrupts a face-to-face conversation with a real person to talk to a machine?
Yes, there’s an off button, but do we ever use it? How much grief do we get for having our tracking device switched off when somebody “important” wants to contact us? I was telling all this to Sab a while ago and she asked me, “What about emergencies?” If I were planning to climb an untamed Andean peak, then I would take some kind of communication device with me. But a stroll along the street is not a threatening experience, where you have to report back every few minutes. I’m doing this because I think I’ve fallen into the trap. If the mobile is such a vital, life-saving tool, how were people able to get through life unscathed 15 years ago? Deep down, I know that my phone is just another way of making my work longer and harder, keeping me in touch and in line. Another buckle of the straitjacket.
So let’s screw it and be happy!
