Who needs a phone, when you have friends with phone

In a way I am liberated by not having a cell phone. I talk on my terms and am not a slave to the bells and barks if incoming mail or push alerts.

Sure, I've sacrificed convenience, but in exchange i am tied to no one and I am at no ones beckon call (not even my infant son's milk demands when  out with friends.) That said, if someone really wants to get a hold of me there are ways, as my husband recently figured out.

Aforementioned hubby was in the midst of making travel plans and needed a quick consult. And, since the world generally functions on a space time continuum of now, well he needed to get a hold of me right now!

Knowing I was at a friend's house he cleverly texted my friends husband. They, like many 2 iPhone per house users, have adopted to cut ties to the traditional land line. He quickly texted his wife, and in a matter of seconds I was connected to my husband.



Like that children's game of telephone where a message is whispered from ear to tiny ear the message in this case was perfectly and swiftly relayed.

The moment, the act of relating a message, also reminded me of a party line. You know, the phone line that you shared with your neighbours, one long ring followed by a short tinkle signaled your call, two quick rings belonged to the house across the street. As a kid I loved to gently lift the receiver and listen in on whatever chat was going on, whatever line party was out there.

In this situation, my friends hubby was the operator. My friend the party line.

A game of relay that worked and saved my husband four hundred bucks thanks to our quick consult.

The funny part? Friends hubby relayed his message via text from the basement.

The curse of the blinking orange light

Pinnacle moments in ones life demand battery power.  Take a recent jaunt along the Anthony Henday, a major highway that circles Edmonton.  Now, to be fair, this was no regular jaunt with two increasingly vocal children in the back seat.  This was a well orchestrated and mandated jaunt to vacate our house for yet another showing.  Sell house sell! On that particular night we were also in the midst of locking down a pending deal on our home.  Each phone call from our realtor mattered.  Each tidbit of information essential.
I was a wreck; no cell phone and completely reliant on my husband's POC (piece of crap), juice sucking blackberry.

We get the call.  The phone starts to send out its distressing beeps.  We get the pertinent info.  We hang up.  We wait.  I stare at the blinking orange low battery light, my hope is fading on all fronts.  I curse technology. The kids are cursing their own complaints in the back.

I scan the Henday for a sign of what I need most - a reliable, trust worthy, warm, battery free, honest to goodness pay phone. Please.




I jot down our realtor's number hoping I don't have to use it and a quarter, or is it 35 cents to make a call.  And then I wonder are these calls even possible anymore? I remember as a kid seeing payphone booths on the side of the highway between Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island.  Convenient boxes providing a link to someone, somewhere.  Alas, the phone booth is a relic of the past, ancient techno history really, back when carbon emissions were figments of only a few people's imaginations.

So, with draining battery power and the need to know what may happen next we swerved off the Henday heading towards downtown, seeing the refuge of a telephone booth, or more likely the recharger cord from my husband's desk at work.

And we made it, just it time, or rather the pending deal arrived just in time, before orange light faded to black. The deal on our home, not as dramatic.

And while on the topic of payphones, check these out.

Doesn't this make you feel warm.  All these people just chatting away, absorbed in their own conversations, but still together and not just walking aimlessly down the street or plugged into their cyborg headsets.


Classic British boxes. One of these beauties could be yours for $3200 Cdn. The tiny phone houses have been on British streets for 75 years and the country's phone company is selling them.  The reason, nobody uses them, or I reckon nobody uses them for the purpose they were intended for anymore.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2135919/For-2-000-red-phone-box-BT-sell-iconic-landmarks-demand-slumps.html


Or this one, changing with the times.  This one is in Brazil.  People there wanted to celebrate the old technology so they asked artists to turn old phone booths into art attractions. 

A Book that Inspires and Alarms

I've been meaning to write about this book, Super Sad True Love Story http://supersadtruelovestory.com/, by Gary Shteyngart, for some time.  It's one of those books that love it or hate it, you can't escape it. It offers a haunting and dystopic glimpse into our future as a society dependent on technology, or as Shteyngart calls it, the apparat.

The apparat is a device, much like our smart phones, that lives on people's hips guiding them what to do, what to buy, where to live, what to wear.  It can also broadcast your fu**ability score to those around you, beam up your financial and health information to nearby light stands for all to see and if that wasn't enough, you can broadcast yourself anytime of day to your thousands of "friends." Sound familiar?  I thought it did. Facebook already allows users to broadcast their location and just in case you need MORE friends, apparently facebook has an app out soon that will connect with your friends friends in person.   Say you're at a pub.  A friend of a friend is sitting near by.  You're both gazing into your apparats, sorry smart phones, oblivious and oh so lonely.  And bing, bing, bing (hear three bells here) facebook, oh glorious fbook, will connect you, let you know your compatibility score with prospective new friend just three bar stools away.  What's next, an app to tell you what to say word for word when you meet new friend of a friend?


Shteyngart's apparat also allows the government to track you. And yes, we are being tracked. Companies know where we've been online, where we're likely to go, and with each day more digital footprints paint a path of who we are, what we do, what we buy and how we vote.

In the book characters are empty shells, unfeeling, dispassionate souls seeking connections through the Internet and through their online personas.  No one talks, they text.  No one reads, books stink. And everybody is busy ranking and being ranked. In Shteyngart's world technology aims to make people happier but it's clear more people are disconnected, lonely and ultimately much sadder. I was astounded by the parallels between our own versions of Utube and other social media sites and how people continue to search for answers and a sense of belonging online.

This book is a warning, one part fascinating and one part alarming.  A must read for future citizens of the Inter webs.

Links worth a glimpse:

Interview with Gary Shteyngart.  Definitely worth the read.
http://www.theatlantic.com/business/archive/2011/10/will-social-media-make-us-anti-social-a-talk-with-gary-shteyngart/247373/

Technology columinst for the Daily Telegraph in the UK and her take on the Super Sad True Love Story:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/technology/blackberry/8822808/A-vision-of-life-without-my-BlackBerry.html

Top Ten Things I miss about my Cell/Smart phone 


1. Texting. Anywhere, anytime. Texting added levity to my day, texture, if you will. Especially if the texts were auto corrected! http://www.damnyouautocorrect.com/

2. Google searches.  Anywhere, anytime. Gotta love the random questions that pop up through the day, google seeks to answer them.  Now, I ask them aloud, to anyone, anywhere, anytime.

3. The "do we need phone call." Do we need cat litter?  Do we need another box of wine?

4.  Alternatively, and perhaps used more frequently..."the can you get phone call?"  Can you get that cheese with the little bits of dill and garlic, you know the one with the green wrapper, tucked away at the back of the Italian centre by the salmon?  Or, yes, can you pick up another box of wine?

5.  Brick breaker.  Oh, how I long to master you, with your sturdy little balls bouncing all around.  I will control you yet. And I'll beat the record of any camera man at CBC too.

6. The way you felt in my hand.  Not in that silly little holder that way too many self important people wear on their belts, but rather the way I felt when I held you in my hand.  Confident. Knowledgeable. Important.  You need to know how to get to Seattle from here, check.  You need to know the weather in South Africa, check.

7. Your incessant beeping and red flashing light telling me, oh so dutifully, that I have a new message.  Pay attention to me now! These messages also helped me feel important, even if it was the twelfth one that day about the arena in Edmonton. wtf????

8. Its ability to make me feel more efficient at my work and relationships.  I'm walking and feel like talking, I call a friend. I'm waiting for the bus (and the glare is too bright to play brick breaker!) I start calling around on a story.

9. Multi tasking with phone in hand.  Oh, how efficient I once was! (phone call to father while grocery shopping -- it didn't matter that I bought the wrong Cheerios and I hung up having no clue what we just talked about.)

10. And finally, its seemingly magical ability to entertain small children.

Come on Join the Phone Ride

It's come to my attention that perhaps I'm stuck in the 80s.

Remember those days; when fashion choices were dictated by the edict 'the louder the better' and cell phones, if they were to be found, were as big as your arm.

I remember my first glimpse of a cell phone in an ex boyfriend's Dad's car.  It was the size of a small microwave and perhaps capable of transmitting as much radioactivity when making a call as when nuking your Michelina's dinner. I was in awe of the gadget, its rubberized casing, the small yellow buttons, the way it felt when you held it to your ear (hello, agent Estabrooks here, over.) I used it once, just to say hi to my Mum.  It was novel, and just like the phones of today, very much a status symbol.

I thought of that phone the other night while attending, er rocking out to, Roxette.

Oh yes, I joined the joyride.  While crooning to my favourite Roxette ballad I looked out to a sea of lit up phones (read here how long it's been since I've been to a concert!) The glowing Apple icons, those lit up screens connected us all and likely kept some hard core rockers from lighting their own amply hair-sprayed hair on fire.  I could have never lit up a concert with that ole rectangle microwave behemoth, let alone take a picture of the famed rocker.

Also of note was the sheer number of phones at the concert, and I suppose anywhere these days.  I guess when I'm in a large public venue, like the Saddledome, its all the more obvious how ubiquitous Apple products are among the masses.  I mean everybody has one. If you weren't swaying with your phone, you were definitely using it to communicate some *vitally* important information to someone, somewhere, and dear god, hope they were listening.  And why not, I suppose, why not let all of your hundreds of facebook, twitter followers in on your dirty little Roxette secret?

So little old me, phone-less wonder, I rocked out with my sister in law's phone to join the "phone ride." It was good, but I could have rocked just as well solo, thanks.

The 80s were good, they were loud, but nary did a cell phone ring, unless you were out too late in your boyfriend's Dad's car.

August 28, 2012

My husband, Graeme, and I share a joke about my navigational skills.  When I'm in urgent need of directions, let's say to the south side of Edmonton, or anywhere outside of my brain map comfort zone I simply call G-quest. A quick call usually solves it all and as of yet has not netted me a big fat $172 ticket http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/edmonton/story/2011/08/31/edmonton-distracted-driving-legislation.html for talking while driving (more on that in a later post.)

Why does this matter?  No phone equals no directions. A terrifying prospect for this country mouse turned city mouse. (Did I mention I have an aversion to reading a map.)

For example, during a recent foray into the traffic of north Edmonton big box hell I was completely and utterly lost. I'd driven into the urban jungle on a mission for a small rodent like toy creature my daughter adores. Driving around aimlessly and saying I couldn't find the store wasn't an option.

Out loud with daughter listening I say "hot damn, I'm really lost."

A moment passes and a small, eager voice pipes up, "Mum, just ask someone."

Oh dear.  Of course.  Cell phone dependency check one.


Thankfully, I've inherited my mother's gift of the gab and will seize upon just about anyone for directions, the time, or just to have a chat. I relish the chance of talking to a stranger, squeezing out small tidbits of their life. Chance encounters can be wonderfully illuminating experiences.


Where has this side of me gone?  With phone in hand I never asked for directions.  G-quest was my ally, google maps my guiding light, safari my navigator wherever I went.  Forget the lowly human on the street. Until now.

We weave through traffic to Toys R Us. I implore a cashier for directions. She seems confused by my request. No matter, with a smile and a nod I'm northbound, eyes open for a large mall on the left side of the road.

I can do it.  Already, I'm gloating in my head and anticipating recounting my navigational prowess over dinner later that day.

And then I drive, and drive and drive, until I can't drive anymore.  The gas gauge seems to have slipped down a notch. My son is crying, Ella announces "Mum you're lost" and I pull into an apartment complex defeated.

I have no choice, I turn around, returning the way I came.  I drive slower, concentrating, thinking. I approach a crosswalk, slowing to allow pedestrians to cross, yelling at one of them, any of them, please, please, look this way. A man stops, he's a firefighter.  No I'm not in trouble, I tell him, I just need directions.  He obliges with a smile.

I'm smiling too. A little human contact in silent suburbia. And bang on directions.

August 25, 2012

Back and truly cell phone free now!

Ditched the cheap piece of crap in Montreal, not so willingly, I might add.  Lost the damn thing likely in a sofa crack at the hotel.  Instead of buying another CPC (cheap piece o' crap) or one of its more expensive and beautiful cousins I've opted to begin this technology free experiment in earnest.

Phone free.  woooo hoo here I go.

Rules apply as previously stated.