Breaking Free of Cell Phone Slavery

I was the last person on my road to get a cell phone. Helpers had cell phones.  Schoolers had cell phones.  Then I got a cell phone.

I walked into the shop and said, (in a loud voice) “Give me the cheapest Cell phone you have!”

For those who don’t live in Jamaica, every dog and it’s cat has to have the most expensive whatsit.  The poorest people will borrow money, will starve, just so they can show off their ‘bling’ their hair style, the ball in their snouts and, of course, the latest cell phone.

For me to do this was more shocking then if I’d stripped myself naked. (And for those who don’t live in Jamaica, stripping yourself naked during an argument is virtually standard among particular groups.)

Anyway, I had my cheap phone.  Call it a “Missyouleftyourphone”, for no one would steal it.

My cell was switched off as night.  Switched on, if recalled, during the day.  Sometimes I forgot.

It is a virtual ‘religion’ that my cell is permanently on silent but vibrates.  It sleeps as far from my bed as the room allows.  It is looked at in the morning as I put it into my pouch, and forgotten.

Sure, there are missed calls.  I return some of them.  There are messages, I look at and delete most of them.

I am, of course, probably from another planet or time. because every dog and its cat lives on the cell phone.

Like zombies they MUST answer it.  They could be taking a dangerous turn in their car, they could be with someone of their dreams; they must answer their cell phone.

Now if you find yourself, living on the phone, you have a serious problem.

To protect yourself, you have to Be Here Now.  That means, when you are walking on the road you can fall into that open pit, have your pocket picked, miss seeing some one or some thing amazing.

That means, you have to live in the Now. Experience life.

The person who calls does so when it is convenient for them.  If they don’t get you, they’ll have to call back. So What?

I have a Boss From Hell who called me at 4:26 am.  Yup. I know the time because my phone keeps a record of missed calls.

I wake up at about 7 am, and that is when I may glance at the phone, especially if the blue light is flashing.  So there I see this idiot has called me consistently from 4:46; 4:50, 4:59, 5:10, 5:20, 5:30…on and on.

At 7 am, I was drinking my coffee, and eating my breakfast. I finished and saw the phone flashing a new.

So I answered it.

“I’ve been calling for hours!”  Bellows the BFH.

“I shut off my phone.”

“You shut off your phone?”

(as he has a very slow brain and unable to deal with the unexpected, there was silence as he went into pause mode for about 20 seconds.  I didn’t interrupt.)

Eventually he tells me something that is important to him, and that his son is coming to pick me up now.

I sauntered to the bathroom, (the cell decorously left on the breakfast table) showered, used my various products, sauntered out, saw the flashing, ignored it, got dressed.  Once I was dressed, I answered the phone.

The BFH never calls me outside of my wage slavery times.

I am not a slave to my cell. You don’t have to be either.