This is a column I wrote for The Ragan Report. But I scrapped it because I thought it made me look: A. Loony and B. Obnoxious. And, because my wife agreed. "Who's asking you to get a cell phone?" she said. But Shades readers are my work wives; and since you already know I'm loony and obnoxious, I thought maybe you'd find the column a kind of comfort. —DM
Lately I have been thinking about getting a cell phone. Thinking about it, do you hear me?
Most people, of course, were thinking about getting a cell phone in 1994, thinking about getting a Palm Pilot in 1998, thinking about getting a Blackberry in 2001 and waiting in line for an iPhone whenever—there is such a thing as an iPhone, right? I’m not making that up?
If I have for this long miraculously avoided the monthly expense and the nagging anxiety of a cell phone—how many bars do I have left? better put it on vibrate! oh God, what does she want on a Sunday?—why am I suddenly consumed with this dilemma in 2008?
For a number of reasons. Reasons, Steve Crescenzo, which do not include your recent rant about how I should have a cell phone so you can, at a moment’s notice, switch the tavern where we're meeting. Just sit your ADD a-s-s down and wait. I'll be there, and I'll be right on time. (As people without cell phones have to be.)
And reasons, my dear friend Tony, that do not have to do with your insinuation that my refusal to carry a cell phone is a kind of pose. My poses are much more obvious and much more inconvenient—a 1964 International Harvester truck is my personal car, for example—than the blessed absence from my pocket of a beeping bar of soap.
No, my recent cell-phone consideration has mostly to do with the changing nature of editorial work. Communicating for a living, for almost all of us, is becoming more immediate, more event-driven, more spontaneous and less based on deadlines and predictable production schedules.
In my regular freelance work for Ragan, for example, I'm writing fewer pieces for print and more for Ragan.com. Ragan.com frequently runs stories with same-day turnaround—instant analysis or quick reporting of a communication-related news story. I’ve been called in the morning with requests for stories in the afternoon—and I expect that to happen more often in the future.
I can't always be available when a Ragan editor calls looking for a story, but I do feel responsible to at least be able to instantly tell the editor—or, gasp, the Ragan fellow himself—when I’m not available, so she or he can find another writer quick.
If I’m at a doctor’s appointment, a parent-teacher conference or drunk in the bar without a cell phone, I can’t give her that courtesy. So far, I’ve relied on my m.o. as a chronically quick getter-backer: My colleagues know if they don’t hear back from me in 30 minutes, I’m either out for the day or dead.
But maybe—maybe—that’s not good enough anymore.
If I do get a cell phone—and I did say if, you safety-mad worrywarts who can’t believe I don’t have a cell phone since I have a child (hey, have daycare death rates plummeted since the advent of cell phones?)—I know this: I’ll hand out my phone number only to a tiny handful of people. I’ll buy U.S. Cingular’s little-known Family, Friends & Editors Plan.
I’ll give the cell number to the people who pay me my money and those with whom I share my money, or would in a pinch.
And when I do give out my cell phone number—and this is only if I get a cell phone, you haughty nerds who would call me a dinosaur even though I blog, e-mail and YouTube my workaday life away—it will be written atop a note.
That note will say:
Before you dial this phone number, please consider that doing so will cause my cell phone to ring at some moment in some place where your intrusion may not be at all welcome.
Potentially and quite likely, this electronic sound and the subsequent sight of your phone number on the screen will jangle my nerves during any of the following: my backswing, a day dream, a sexual fantasy, the formation of the best idea I’ve had in a year—or all of the above, simultaneously.
Just as tragic if not moreso, your call could wake me up from a catnap, ruin my lunch or distract me from a conversation with my four-year-old daughter about why the mean girl scarecrow she dreamt about last night wouldn’t let her have hot chocolate.
Look, dear havers of my cell phone number: I love you—or, at the very least, I need you (and, lucky self-actualized man that I am, of almost all of you both are true)—so by all means, if your call is important enough to interrupt the natural flow and rhythm of my day wherever I am, call.
If not—if you merely want to know if I saw the walk-off home run last night, feel like telling me something I wrote last week was dumb or just want to “touch base”—send me an e-mail. I’m sufficiently Internet-addicted that, unless I’m stuck in wreckage or on vacation, I’ll get back to you in a matter of hours. And I’ll be a happier correspondent when I do.
Oh, who am I kidding? This is ridiculous. I’ve put off getting a cell phone for a decade and a half. I’m not getting one until someone tells me I have to.
Which, I realize, may be any minute.
Readers, do you have any advice for me? I’d love to hear it: dmurrayil@earthlink.net
And, by the way, the early results are in: I ran this column past my sister, three years my junior. She seemed flat-out mystified by my point of view on cell phones, and when I explained my stress over being interrupted at inconvenient moments, she said with a shrug, “Just turn off your phone.”
And I e-mailed a draft of this column to my dear friend Tony, and asked him if he didn’t think readers of this column would think me a bit of a hothouse flower. He wrote back, “You can’t help that now.”
Comments (28)
Better than just turning your cell phone off, just don't give out your number to ANYONE. There is no rule that you have to give your cell phone number to anyone just because you have one.
You can also put a restriction on your number which will prevent those who you do call from being able to a) call you back or b) capturing your cell phone number for their address book.
Of courseyou can always adopt Crescenzo's practice of never answering your phone which will cause people to stop calling you in short order.
You could, of course, follow your sister's advice to just turn the darn thing off if/when it is going to bother you. Or you could simple ignore the calls and let them roll over into voice mail.
Remember there are two sides of getting--and staying--connected.
Posted by Craig Jolley | March 25, 2008 9:33 AM
Posted on March 25, 2008 09:33
The trouble is, Craig--and I'm thinking about this a lot--I'm NOT able to "ignore" the calls. Whether I answer them or not they come with a whole series of questions: What does the person want to talk about, should I or shouldn't I answer, when will I be able to get back to that person later, etc.--that are bulky and stressful enough to really interrupt whatever train of thought I'm having.
I couldn't do what Crescenzo does--constitutionally COULD NOT DO IT.
Thanks MUCH for that tip for keeping people from capturing my number (and my soul!!!!!!!!).
Posted by David Murray | March 25, 2008 9:40 AM
Posted on March 25, 2008 09:40
I've always found it happy-inducing and slighly reassuring that there are actually people like you (that is, cell-phone-free) out there David.
I'd be mildly disappointed if you broke down and got one, as then I couldn't say to people (usually those highly annoying blue-tooth people or people who seem to NEVER not be on their phones not matter what they are doing - yes - even in the bathroom!) "You know, there are actually some people out there - and I even know someone - who DON'T EVEN HAVE a cell phone, and they manage to live completely full lives nevertheless!"
However, if you do decide to get one, the turning it off option is the one to go with when you don't want to take calls. That way you won't even know people are calling you until you turn it back on.
Posted by Kristen | March 25, 2008 10:13 AM
Posted on March 25, 2008 10:13
Then do what may parents do...except for us kids, who they know will only call their cell phone if it is a life altering emergency, no one else has their number and they don't use their cell phone at all, except to turn it on when they drive to Florida for the annual 4-month sojourn.
You could even do what dad has done, get one of those plans that only charge you when you use the phone, which is sure to be a self-imposed governor, especially after you get that first month's bill.
Posted by Craig Jolley | March 25, 2008 10:13 AM
Posted on March 25, 2008 10:13
Kristen--
But I'll know they COULD be calling me.
Some of my problem here, is no doubt MY PROBLEM.
David
Posted by David Murray | March 25, 2008 10:52 AM
Posted on March 25, 2008 10:52
I got a cell phone, reluctantly, when I was seeing someone who is perpetually late, and also when I noticed that there are no pay phones left, which meant that one night while traveling I had to go up to strangers trying to get someone to call a cab for me.
I rarely use it, and never just to "chat." People on the bus are spared what I ate for lunch.
I never use it in the bathroom, unlike someone I could name, who not only talks on the phone as she sits on the toilet, but flushes mid-chat.
I've written enough about cell phone compulsion and addiction.
We'll see, Murray.
Posted by Diane | March 25, 2008 11:16 AM
Posted on March 25, 2008 11:16
David. Are you sure Dad didn't write this? Oh, no, that's right: he's had a cell phone since 2001, when he turned 77.
Well, if it's not right for the Ragan report, maybe the Middletown Journal?
Posted by Piper Murray | March 25, 2008 11:21 AM
Posted on March 25, 2008 11:21
Okay, David, so you can't get a cell phone because even if you turn it off, you will know that people COULD be calling you and thus you are compelled to keep it on so you can answer it even though you don't want to? God, I love guilt. So knowing that there might be trash not taken to the curb would wake you in the night? An unpaid bill would haunt you until the check is written? Why didn't I meet a guy like YOU twenty or thirty years ago?
It's just another little piece of technology. Its usefulness is related to what you're doing or where you are at the time. And out in the toolies where I live, mine doesn't work anyway (yes, I know, I work for a phone company, but they've chosen not to put a tower out near my "remote" location and thus it's just not available when I'm home--but then I'm home, so call me on the land-line, eh?). But I value its usefulness for staying in touch with my college-age daughter, whose whereabouts are always a mystery; it keeps us connected, we make dates to go to the gym, I find out when she's broke and needs funds, and I know that in a true pinch, she'd call her mom. And I make full use of caller ID, no matter what phone is ringing, even here at work. I've ignored calls from Accounting more than once. That's what voice mail is for, yes? And if I just don't want to talk to someone, I reply to their voice mail by email, if I reply at all. It's just a phone, the same tool you've been using since you were a wee little boy.
If you don't need one and don't want one, then just don't get one! Or will those unanswered calls that might have been haunt you until you simply must succumb?
I look forward to your decision, including a blow-by-blow of this angst. Please, please keep us posted. This is more fun than watching "The Office."
Posted by Joan H. | March 25, 2008 11:27 AM
Posted on March 25, 2008 11:27
Ladies and gentleman, may I introduce my sister Piper?
Pie, Dad would have written this if he wasn't retired and thus HOPING he'd get some phone calls.
Back when he was busy, he had Mary Pat What's Her Name holding all his calls! WHAT DOES HE KNOW ABOUT THE STRESSES OF INSTANTANEOUS MODERN COMMUNICATION?
Posted by David Murray | March 25, 2008 11:28 AM
Posted on March 25, 2008 11:28
A sister named Piper and a daughter named Scout...how'd you end up with a boring, square name like David?
Posted by Craig Jolley | March 25, 2008 12:53 PM
Posted on March 25, 2008 12:53
I don't know, Craig. I guess I'm just a smarmy frat boy, eh?
Posted by David Murray | March 25, 2008 1:06 PM
Posted on March 25, 2008 13:06
I didn't have a cell phone until one was given to me by irrate friends who could never get in touch with me (just under three years ago). But I'm with your sister on this one, just turn it off when you don't want it to bother you, or simply, don't answer it. That's what I do (probably the discouragmeent of those trying to be in touch with me, but if I'd rather not talk to someone and it will let me keep some sanity, than it's for the better).
Posted by Mike | March 25, 2008 3:18 PM
Posted on March 25, 2008 15:18
Just get a God damned cell phone, you hothouse flower, Thoreau wannabe pretentious poser.
Just because you have one, doesn't mean you're beholden to it.
I'll coach you, David. Here's how it works:
1. Whenever you're on the golf course, at dinner, having sexual fantasies, or otherwise don't want to be bothered, turn it off!
2. When it's on, set priorities for when you answer it and when you don't. Contrary to what Mr. Jolley said, I DO answer my phone once in a while.
Here are my priorities:
1. Zach (my son), Cindy (my wife) Tracey (my ex wife). For these people I automatically answer it, unless it's off (it's always off during meals and meetings and seminars).
2. People like Mark Ragan, Jim Ylisela, Shel Holtz, clients . . . people who I work with a lot. They don't get an automatic answer, but if I have time to talk, am in a place where I can talk without being obnoxious, and feel like talking, I answer.
3. Everybody else. If I feel like talking, i answer. If not, it goes into voice mail, and I figure out whether or not it needs a call back.
It's not rocket science, you hothouse flower, you.
Just get the damn thing . . . so that I can get ahold of you when we need to move to another tavern and you're en route.
Steve C.
Posted by Steve C. | March 25, 2008 4:04 PM
Posted on March 25, 2008 16:04
My cell phone is for MY convenience, not for the convenience of anyone else. I follow all the rules that help that happen. I love my cell phone, even though I seldom use it. No, you can't have my number.
Posted by Jane Greer | March 25, 2008 4:10 PM
Posted on March 25, 2008 16:10
Nicely put, Jane.
Steve, why can't you be as economical?
Posted by David Murray | March 25, 2008 4:18 PM
Posted on March 25, 2008 16:18
Yeah, there was quite a long time there when I was determined to be the last person on earth to own a cell phone. Just didn't want to be that available. But a year or two back, the Mrs. got me one anyway, and it turns out it's not such an evil thing. Good to have for emergencies -- you know, like that last-minute tavern change.
You will get a cell phone, David. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of your life. Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated.
I always think of those last two sentences when I see people with, as Steve calls them, "ear dildoes."
Posted by Greg Marsh | March 25, 2008 11:11 PM
Posted on March 25, 2008 23:11
My politician friend writes about his experience with a cell phone, which he needed in order to run for office:
"Having a cell phone has very much been like two years' worth of shocks to my brain, unexpected electrical shocks, like in Kurt Vonnegut story. I'm not trying to be funny. I cannot fucking believe the nonsensical reasons people call and the damage even worthwhile calls do to my mind, especially while I'm driving. ... I ain't kidding about the damage this fucking little machine has done to me neurologically, psychologically, professionally, spiritually, intellectually. Stand pat, Brother Murray. Stay happy."
This guy for President
Posted by David Murray | March 26, 2008 8:08 AM
Posted on March 26, 2008 08:08
Well, now, I just don't know about all these folks encouraging you to get a cell phone, David. It seems that you've been doing just fine without one, getting deadlines met and life lived (unless there's something you're not telling us). I'm not so pro-portable communication technology, actually. Between my two cell phones, one of which is a CrackBerry, my two other phone numbers (work and home - both with voice mail), and my three email addresses plus myragan and twitter accounts, I get that weird, obsessive, jumpy feeling a lot that someone is trying to reach me and I have to check something NOW. So I can never relax. If it's working for you without one FINE, so be it. Here's the only caveat: Make sure Mrs. Murray has one so she can be reached at all times in case there's an emergency (g-d forbid) with Scout. Go be that maverick who disdains newfangled stuff. I fully support you in that. You may even have a better life because of it.
Posted by Amy | March 26, 2008 8:27 AM
Posted on March 26, 2008 08:27
Oh, yeah, Amy . . . HE has a more complete life. HE is happy. HE can shut out the world every time he leaves the house. But if you're friends with the guy, which I am, it's a PAIN IN THE ASS.
He's like the guy who lives in the city and brags and brags about how he got rid of his car . . . and then mooches rides from everybody else.
When we're out shooting pool, I have to field calls from his wife because he doesn't have a phone. He leaves MY number with the babysitter. He uses MY phone and MY minutes to check in with people.
And take the other day. We were going to meet at a bar. So Cindy and I are in the bar, and they switch from playing old-school good music (Stones, Cat Stevens, Beatles) to RAP MUSIC. Loud, blaring, RAP MUSIC.
I need to GET OUT. but I can't, because David Thoreau is not there yet, and I can't reach him to tell him to go to the bar across the street. So I have to sit there and listen to Snoopy Doggie or whatever the hell was playing, for 30 minutes!!!!
Can you imagine the hell????
Yes, maybe David might have a richer, more fulfilled life . . . but in the meantime, I'm stuck listening to RAP MUSIC!!!!!!
Steve C.
Posted by Steve C. | March 26, 2008 9:31 AM
Posted on March 26, 2008 09:31
Steve, you wouldn't have had to go to that bar in the first place if you hadn't used your dumb-ass cell phone to call me and switch our meeting place from ANOTHER, BETER bar BEFORE THAT!
Seriously, dude. You've got to get rid of your cell phone. It's filling you with hate.
Posted by David Murray | March 26, 2008 9:40 AM
Posted on March 26, 2008 09:40
It stikes me in reading the last few entries that the issue here isn't actually David's owning (or not) of a cell phone, but that you guys don't seem to have enough decent bars in your area.
Seriously, playing rap "music" (and I use that descriptor very, VERY loosely in this context) in a tavern which used to play good music is absolutely justifiable homicide!
You should have just summarily killed the DJ who started playing that awful stuff and left him out with the other trash in the back alley. Then nobody would've had to move anywhere, and David doesn't need a cell phone.
Voila! See how easy that was? No, don't thank me! I live to solve people's dilemmas - I AM a Communicator after all, and this one was WAY easier than some of the stuff I have solve at work - for people I don't like NEARLY as much as I like you two guys!!
Posted by Kristen | March 26, 2008 10:36 AM
Posted on March 26, 2008 10:36
A fresh and insightful analysis, Kristen. You cut right to the chase. It isn't about phones, it's about bars, and there's a topic I can relate to. Excellent work!
Posted by Joan H. | March 26, 2008 3:42 PM
Posted on March 26, 2008 15:42
A friend of mine went cell phone-free for years. His attitude was that he was sick of the mindset that went with it:
"Just because you call me does not make me your bitch. I do not have to answer the phone and I do not have to call you back. Get over it."
He wasn't saying this to me, thankfully, although he was subsequently an hour late to meeting me thanks to a dodgy Melbourne tram, and he couldn't ring me to tell me.
Posted by Alex Manchester | March 26, 2008 10:48 PM
Posted on March 26, 2008 22:48
Steve, you know I love you more than my favorite pair of knock-off Jimmy Choos. But YOU have to know when to say NO. If David doesn't want to own a cell phone, that doesn't make you his cell-phone-totin surrogate. If you have to leave a bar and you can't call him on his nonexistent cell phone, leave a note with the bartender. Tell Mrs. Murray that you adore her, but she will have to call the bar and have David yelled for by the bartender. It worked in the old days, and it can work now (but David had better be ready with a seriously GREAT tip for the bartender). And to Kristen's point, find a bar with decent music.
Posted by Amy | March 27, 2008 8:36 PM
Posted on March 27, 2008 20:36
Amy, I do love you, goddamnit.
Posted by David Murray | March 28, 2008 12:56 AM
Posted on March 28, 2008 00:56
Right back at ya, Murray. : )
Posted by Amy | March 28, 2008 1:24 PM
Posted on March 28, 2008 13:24
In my city's defense, we have many, many great bars . . .this happened to be on Saturday, March 15, when all the wannabe irish were in full glory, with their stupid hats and shamrocks, jamming every single bar in the city.
THere WERE no good bars that day . . . but we happened to be in the worst one.
And Amy, never take sides against the family again. I knew you well before David ever did, we've been friends longer, and he once told me he doesn't even really like you.
So stay on my side for all things, okay?
Steve C.
Posted by Steve C. | March 28, 2008 3:13 PM
Posted on March 28, 2008 15:13
Oh, Steve.
Posted by David Murray | March 28, 2008 4:51 PM
Posted on March 28, 2008 16:51