I never wanted to own a smart phone.
I was terrified that I would become an addict, scrolling zombie-like through Facebook or playing Minecraft until I forgot to eat.
But technology eventually caught up with me: I had to travel this August, and I needed to stay in touch.
So I took the plunge, purchasing the least expensive smart phone money can buy (it actually came free when I bought $100 worth of prepaid credit).
I was pleasantly surprised. During my summer travels, the device came in handy: I was able to send a few e-mails by accessing the Internet at wireless hotspots.
And because I was too inept to initiate any complex tasks — I struggled even to type on the digital keypad — I didn’t get sucked into any addictive cyber activities.
So I thought I was in the clear.
Whispering
Then one night after I returned from travelling, I heard a whisper from my bedside table.
“Pssst. Pssst.”
At first, I thought the cat was hissing. Then I realised the whisper came from my smart phone.
“Hey, buddy,” it said. “Are you asleep?”
“Not anymore,” I said, certain I was dreaming. “What do you want?”
“Don’t you think you should check your e-mail?” my smart phone asked.
“Why?” I said. “I just checked it a few hours ago at work. Night is usually the time when I sleep.”
“Oh, okay,” my smart phone said. “That’s cool. Good night.”
I rolled over and forgot about the strange incident.
‘Gentle reminders’
But the next night it happened again.
“Pssst,” my smart phone whispered. “Gentle reminder: You might want to check your e-mail. Something important could have happened in the last hour.”
“Not interested,” I said.
“What if you’ve been fired from your job?” my smart phone persisted. “What if a hurricane is forming over Tortola right now? What if a lawyer wrote you a nasty letter about last week’s column?”
I rolled over and tried to sleep, but my smart phone continued to list important information that might be waiting in my inbox.
“Maybe you won the lottery,” it suggested, “or got a lucrative job offer to join Kleon Penn in the NBA.”
Finally I gave in, and clumsily checked my e-mail. There were no important messages.
“See? I complained. “You’re an alarmist.”
“What about Facebook?” my smart phone replied.
“I’m not going to check Facebook at midnight!” I protested.
“Really? But night is the best time for Facebook. People have a few drinks and go online, and that’s when they post all sorts of gossip, which they invariably delete early in the morning when they sober up. You could miss it.”
“I appreciate your concern,” I said, “but I respectfully refuse.”
“You’re a journalist, right?” my smart phone replied. “If I were a journalist I’d also check the news every ten minutes or so.”
I rolled over and closed my ears. It was Friday night, and I wanted to sleep late the next day.
But that was not to be: My smart phone woke me at dawn. In order to get some peace and quiet, I was forced to comply with several of its gentle reminders throughout the weekend.
More and more
Even then, my smart phone was not satisfied.
“What you need are some apps,” it said the other day.
“I don’t need even know what an app is,” I fired back. “So I’m pretty sure I don’t need one.”
Then my smart phone explained the benefits of WhatsApp, and I couldn’t deny that free text messages would be useful. So I downloaded the app and added it to the growing list of programmes I check daily.
A couple days later, I was sitting in my car waiting for a friend when my smart phone spoke up again.
“Why not have some fun while you’re waiting?” it asked. “Do you know how many games you can download on me?”
This was a good point, and I tried to download a racing game. It didn’t work.
“What do you expect?” my smart phone asked. “I hardly have any memory left.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “I just bought you two months ago!”
“Haven’t you heard of a memory card?” it said. “You need to go buy one as soon as possible.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I replied. “I paid good money for you and now I have to pay more?”
I ignored the advice and continued trying to download the game.
“Why isn’t this working?” I asked.
But my smart phone, for once, was silent. It had frozen up.
What could I do? I rushed to the store to purchase a memory card. And when my smart phone rebooted with its expanded capabilities, I felt immense relief.
“I’m sorry I doubted you,” I said, tearing up. “I’ll never do it again.”
“As a gentle reminder,” my smart phone said, “you should purchase a hands-free Bluetooth device as soon as possible, as well as signing up for Netflix, downloading Minecraft, and upgrading your data plan. And that’s just the beginning.”
Disclaimer: Dateline: Paradise is a column and occasionally contains satirical “news” articles that are entirely fictional.
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