It is my third week without a smartphone. Twenty-one days ago, I purchased a Japanese “dumb” phone with the same high-tech functionality of coleslaw.
The weirdest part about not having a smartphone is that I keep experiencing random phone vibrations in my back pocket, indicating that I’m receiving texts from my old smartphone, even though my old phone is powered off and locked in a safe.
I can only assume that for the last umpteen years there has been a vibrating device in my back pocket and my brain currently doesn’t know what to do now that it’s gone.
So I have a constant vibration coming from my intergluteal cleft, even though there is nothing in my pocket.
I actually went to the doctor to ask about this. I thought I might be having some sort of nerve trouble.
The doctor replied, “Hold on, let me finish this text.”
Without a smartphone, I now routinely venture into the real world without a phone at all. I am re-learning to navigate unfamiliar regions without GPS, using only maps and verbal expletives.
Also, I don’t have a phone camera anymore. So if there’s something I want to take a picture of, I just look at it real hard.
Technically, my “idiot” phone is capable of receiving text messages, but I can’t read them because the screen is about the size of a lone Skittle. So, for the most part, I am phoneless.
Yesterday, my flip phone battery died and I actually used a payphone to call my wife. I didn’t even know they HAD payphones anymore.
WIFE: Hello?
ME: It’s me.
WIFE: What’s wrong? I don’t recognize this number.
ME: I’m calling from a payphone.
HER: A payphone? Omigod. What is it?
ME: It’s a coin-operated public telephone located in high-traffic areas, but that’s not important right now.
One major thing I miss about smartphones is looking stuff up. I used to LOVE looking up random tidbits.
Oh, the joy sporadic Googling brought me. I could be anywhere: shopping, at a redlight, undergoing a colonoscopy, etc., and I’d search for any trivia that popped into my brain. Such as “body pillow for bathtub,” or “how old is Benji today?”
But now I just sit there, staring into space, with vibrating haunches.
Most of all, I miss digital-socialization. I used to feel more connected than I do now. I was always texting throughout the day. But without a phone, I feel lonely. And a little lost.
Something else nobody prepared me for:
In public places, you feel VERY out of place without a phone. Namely, because you are among the few not staring at one. You never realize how much people truly use phones until you stand in a supermarket checkout line.
Yesterday I was in one such line when the cashier told me to scan a QR code for a discount.
“I don’t have a phone,” I replied.
She just looked at me. She wore a huge smile.
“Good for you!” the cashier said. “I gave MY smartphone up last year, too!”
We shared a moment of connection, this stranger and I. I felt so seen. So heard. So bonded to another human for the first time in three weeks. We high-fived.
Then I smiled at her and asked sincerely, “Is your butt vibrating?”
And I was asked to leave the store.