Slaves to the Cell
Alright, so I've been attending this intensive AP training all week.
One of the reasons for my blogger silence.
Anyhizzle, I emerged from the morning session of this training. It has been so compressed and, did I mention intensive?, that when I stepped outside for a coffee break I could practically feel my cerebellum throbbing.
As I looked around the commons area I surveyed the landscape of professional educators in their summer garb. Some were talking, some drinking coffee, some smoking(ah, sweet nectar!), but most, regardless of what they were doing seemed to be on a cell phone.
I walked up the stairs to the men's room. I walked into a stall and realized the one next to me was occupied. As I was finishing my mission I heard my neighbors cell phone ring. And he actually answered the call! It gets better. It was apparently his wife or significant other. I could not help but overhear. This guy then starts yelling. "F_ _ck! Can't I even get a break from your drama when I take a shit!". Uh, well no, especially when you answer your phone while taking a dump. Suppressing laughter with every fiber in my being I rushed out of the bathroom. Yes, I managed to wash my hands on the way out.
As I descended the stairs I ran into a colleague I had not seen all summer. He began to chat with me, while he was on his phone! Later.
I get back to my seminar. About ten minutes into the session the presenter pauses to switch his cell to 'vibrate'.
At the lunch break I head out to grab something to eat that I'm sure will disagree with me. As I'm waiting at a red light I happen to glance in my rear view mirror and notice a young lady applying what appears to be eyeliner. . .while talking on her phone.
What the heck is going on?
I don't have a cell phone. I reject the cell phone. I can't afford one anyway. Besides, I just don't want to be reached out to and touched wherever I'm at.
I'm not even dissin' cell phones. I recognize their utility in some circumstances. But lately, and today seemd to be a capstone, that most people with a cell phone have become captive to it. How is it that human civilization got along with telephone technology for over a century without needing to take a phone with them everywhere? Including the bathroom.
And it is not just teenagers I'm talking about. Everyone I described from today was a grown adult. Has life become that important? Or have we manufactured the need for this device? What the heck is so important that we need to be on the phone all the time?
This is not a cell phone rant.
Peace and good health to all.
5 Comments:
We are cell-free too. Like you, I don't always want to be found... I rarely pick up my phone when I'm home without screening first anyway. I suppose someday we'll cave and get one, but not for a loooooong time, I hope. And don't even get me started on 'crackberries.' lol!
Cell phones are addicting; my whole family is hooked (no land line anymore) and what was supposed to be cheaper is in fact more expensive than ever.
Sometimes they are cool: I work far from home and we all drive quite a bit, but I'm beginning to question the wisdom of it all.
The guy in the bathroom...now that was classic.
t
yeah, its terrible the way people need to talk to other people these days! now i know why funkiller doesn't call me anymore. he's old school and he don't need no stinkin' conversation.
hey, here's a thought: when your bathroom-buddy busts out his phone in the neighboring stall you should start to sing the RUN-DMC classic "You Talk Too Much". ahh, i can just hear you now...
Hi funkiller! BTW, my regular blog seems to be like dust in the wind. Still, I can't wait forever for Blogger to find it. I've set up temporary housing at "spillforth2.blogspot.com". It's a little cramped, since I've combined my two households: Spill Forth Chameleon and So the Echo, but all are welcome. We'll even keep the light on for you. :)
Julia's comment reminds me of the old trick my parents would use if I was away from home (long distance) and they wanted to verify I got there okay. I would call them collect, asking for myself. Since no one would normally call *me* collect, they'd know it was me. They'd then refuse to accept the call, knowing it was me calling in the first place, and they'd gotten the confirmation they needed in the first place. Ah, for the days of screwing over Ma Bell...
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