Iphobia. You know what it is. It’s the sinking sensation in your stomach when you walk into a classroom and 200 students are staring down at little screens. It’s talking to someone in person and being interrupted by incessant little buzzes reminding them how popular they are. And it’s knowing that unless I want to be a self-righteous-friendless-loser, I will have to join the game, and get a smartphone too.
Yes, I could stick to my ideals and be strong-willed and just not get one. But I am more selfish than idealistic, I don’t want to always be the last one to know what’s going on, to be left out of conversations and to sit in traffic because I don’t have Waze.
Of course, most of the bad things about not owning a smartphone are in fact the good things. I still work on my sense of direction and if I am completely lost I am forced to roll down the window and ask the other driver. It takes too long to text someone who has WhatsApp (by the time I’ve punched the buttons enough times to get to the right letter, they’ve already sent a new message, and then I have to exit the message I’m writing so I can see what they said), so I just give up texting altogether and call the other person, who is usually pretty taken aback by the sound of a human voice.
But who am I kidding? I’m a student. I am on the computer all day, only I waste my life in front of a big screen while everyone else wastes it in front of little screens. My attention span, like everyone else’s, is getting shorter as my inbox gets longer. I, too, look at pictures of people whose names I can’t remember and I too convince myself that all of this horrifyingly isolating technology is actually connecting me with more people. I can come up with a list of excuses why I should get a smartphone. But like every stupid thing we do, the reason is probably just because it’s there. So, world, I have come to terms with my fate and am ideologically willing to accept a smartphone.
So, uh… you can just have it shipped to my house.