If life only had a keyboard shortcut

Here’s an oldie but goodie. In 1950s DJ lingo: A platter that matters. Cell phones. I’ve written about them before and will probably write about them again until their days are numbered!

Right! It’s like that one guy 50 years ago who said, “Computers? Oh, those things will never catch.”

About a month ago at a meeting with my ad reps, the topic of cell phones surfaced, namely because mine (a cheap trying-to-be-touch-screen job that’s failing miserably) is on the fritz, and I’d been a little tough to reach and long on returning phone calls because that little hip leech has decided to not tell me when there’s a VM, won’t record incoming calls to the RECENT CALL LOG, and freezes up altogether when I try to access the call log. As far as I’m concerned, the darned thing is nothing but a blinking paperweight that buzzes sometimes.

I won’t say that our conversation about cell phones turned into an argument, but it came close. Why? Because I hate cell phones. Call me stubborn (you wouldn’t be the first in this regard), but I refuse to jump on the talk-text bandwagon. What was ironic to me about this argument is that the two people that I was having it with were both older than I am now when I was born.

There I was, in the office of my new house, being schooled by two people in their seventies on the pros of owning a cell phone and essentially being told, “Chris, you’ve got to get with the times. Chris, you’ve got to get connected. Chris, you need a smart phone. Chris, you need to text!”

Text?

Text what? I’ve never texted a day in my life.

And a smart phone? They’re only as smart as their operator, and when it comes to cell phones, I’m like Forrest Gump: “stupid is as stupid does.”

Terrorists can detonate dirty bombs with cell phones, kids can hack government computers with cell phones, but when you put 4Gs in my hand, I can barely utilize 1kb. I even have issues pressing SEND.

My argument against my needing a cell phone has always been this:

When I’m in my office, I can be reached on a landline. When I’m out, it’s under three scenarios:

1. I’m at a meeting.
2. I’m on a photo assignment.
3. I’m out with my wife.

I can’t or won’t take calls under any of those above circumstances. Call me crazy, but when I’m at a meeting, I like to give the other person my full attention. And when I’m on a photo assignment, I’ll be damned if I waste a shot because my back pocket is vibrating (ask any photographer—good shots pass in a split second). And when I’m out with my wife, work is over. Not to mention, when I’m at a meeting or on a photo assignment, I’m never more than 10 minutes away from my office. If someone needs a callback, it can surely wait 10 minutes. I run a weekly paper after all, not an hourly.

Don’t get me wrong. I see the purpose of cell phones. Begrudging as I am to admit it, I accept their place in our culture. And in case of emergencies, they’re little wonders that could save a life or get you off the road. Heck, I drive old cars. If it weren’t for my cell phone (defunct as it is), I’d probably still be broke down by some cornfield in the middle of nowhere waiting for a passerby. I just think that, like everything, cell phones can be a little overpowering.

Case in point:

A few weeks ago, my wife and I were at furniture store, shopping for sofas, when I noticed two kids, maybe in their very early teens, lounging on one of the displays, thumbs working, glued to their cell phones. I was amazed by the attention they were giving those things. It was after a few minutes of watching them that one said to the other, “Shut up! I can’t believe you just said that to me.” I realized they had been sitting right next to each other, texting each other all along. What happened to talking? I thought. I don’t even think the cell phone companies had that in mind when they came up with talk-and-text plans.

But for all my gripes with cell phones, I admit that I’m gripped by technology just the same as most other people are. My entire life runs through a computer, and what is a cell phone but a pocket computer? The primary way to communicate with me is through email, and during layout, Mason and I depend on Instant Messaging. All my TV comes through our computer, and because of computers, I can visit my favorite place whenever I want: the library.

But just as I think cell phone-use can go a little too far, so can technology. At least my perception of technology.

About a week after we moved into our new house, I was setting up the built-in shelving in my office. I didn’t like my original arrangement, so I went to work again. An hour later, I stepped back, surveyed my Feng Shui skills, and decided I liked the previous arrangement. Kid you not, my very first impulse was to press Ctrl+Z, which is the keyboard shortcut for UNDO.

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