I’m emotionally split when I see people rocking a ridiculously old cellphone. Part of me wants to laugh and jump up and down and point at them and make them feel as silly as possible for still using something that old when there are SO many other options. I mean, come on! You can walk into any carrier store and pretty much walk out with a better phone for free! I can’t even imagine the presumably god-awful battery life on that thing. How long does it hold a charge, that Nokia you got in ’99? An hour? Fifteen minutes? One call?
Conversely, I’m secretly a little jealous that their life is, at least on the surface, perfectly manageable with such a device. All they really need to do is make phone calls, and they might not even do that so much. No one’s buzzing them with emails, demanding action on their part. I sometimes wake up in a cold sweat because I had a nightmare that I was forced to give up my iPhone for something like a RAZR. And then, a tiny voice, deep, deep inside whispers, “would it really be that bad?”
It’s usually at those moments that I grab my current phone and fire up no fewer than six different apps in quick succession to prove to myself that it’s totally worth it. Because if I start doubting now, the entire architecture of my adult life and livelihood comes crashing down around me. Ah, who am I kidding? It’s pretty freaking awesome. Yeah, so suck it, hopelessly old phone users. There, now I feel better.