How I Ended Up Talking to Myself
I walk to manage my stress, clear my head, and keep in shape. But a recent three-mile walk threatened to undo years of physical and mental gymnastics when somewhere along my route, I lost my cell phone. Ergo, I ceased to exist.
I knew I was dependent on my cell phone but I never knew how much.
When I came home from that fateful Sunday morning walk, I decided to work in the garden before going inside for coffee.
But once inside, I realized my phone wasn’t in my pocket.
Instant panic.
I ran back out to the garden. Retraced my steps. Called my number incessantly from my husband’s phone, hoping to hear it ring.
Silence.
Panic turned into desperation.
I re-walked my three-mile trek (this time feeling a stroke coming on).
With each passing mile I was thinking blacker thoughts: “My contacts…my pictures…my passwords…will I have to change my phone number…?”
Back home with no phone, fearing ALL was lost, I called AT&T to “suspend” my phone and headed straight for their store to buy a new one (lest my business empire crumble and my friends and family forget I exist, come Monday morning).
After sitting in the store for four-plus hours waiting to be served (fuming along with other phonoholics), here’s what I learned:
• I hate myself for being so dependent on my phone.
• Always bring something printed on paper to read when you go to replace your lost phone. All those emails and social sites you were going to check out while you waited were on your phone.
• You can’t kill time calling friends or family because you don’t have a phone.
• Hours later, when they finally do wait on you and start asking you for passwords to set up your new phone, you can’t respond because the passwords you can’t remember are in the phone you don’t have.
• You are officially flagged as a Hacker by Apple after your 15th attempt to log in the password information:
- Your first car (Make or model? Make and model?)
- Where your parents met (City? College? At the house of the friend who introduced them?)
- Your first concert (“I’m telling you it was The Beatles! Section P(aul), Row R(ingo). What perfectly sane person wouldn’t remember that?”)
• You must resist the urge to do bodily harm to the AT&T sales rep when he finally gives up and says you will have to go IN PERSON to an Apple Store and make an appointment with a “Genius” (unlike yourself) to reset your passwords to get your phone fully connected.
That did it.
I went home with my half-connected, overpriced phone (and the mini-iPad they talked me into buying), found my password cheat sheet (and yes, The Beatles were my first concert!), plugged them in and suddenly had contact with the outside world.
I then spent the rest of the week contending with aftershocks:
Pairing my new phone to the car’s Bluetooth (even Stephen Hawking would have called the dealership for help…).
Syncing things up to Verizon Wi-Fi (always fun).
Changing the settings on all my other “devices” (ensuring 24/7 dependency wherever I am, whatever device I’m with).
It took me five days to get my blood pressure down and my devices up.
Fortunately, I was headed to the beach for a much-needed vacation.
Only one job left to do: water the garden.
And that’s when I saw it.
My lost phone.
Face down in the mud.
Gleaming in the fading sunlight.
Wet from the hose.
Dead as a doornail.
I need that vacation.
Anita Alvare (bio)/Alvare Associates/610-520-6140
Comments (6)
09.10.2015
Richard D De Veaux
Love this story. I’m still laughing.. been there. (Not to mention the Beatles concert
09.10.2015
Joyce Williams
Laughed all the way through your email, Anita—except for when I was crying remembering the similar ordeal I experienced. PTSD for sure!
09.10.2015
S. Joan Rychalsky
Dear Anita,
Loved your blog. Because I am not hooked up 24/7 to anything (age could be a factor), I laughed out loud a couple of times while reading. Sorry for laughing but it was delightful for everyone except the person to whom it happened.
Think of you often and hope your move went well, smoothly, and peacefully—not a joke. Maybe if things calm down for you, we might be able to visit over a quiet lunch. With best wishes, & prayers, Joan
09.10.2015
Beke Beau
And so it goes…. even being born in the 50’s doesn’t seem to help….
09.11.2015
Bill Clark
I love this. I really felt your XXX whatever that’s called when its a mix of anxiety, frustration, anger and urgency.
09.17.2015
Phil Osagie
Awwww I am so sorry…