Untethered From Tech

In the distant future anthropologists will unearth the ruins our “civilization” and speculate that the primitive species, homo sapiens, underwent a mass mutation some time during the early part of their 21st century. A subspecies arose and, for a while, dominated the planet. Their skeletal remains indicated their necks and backs were permanently bent downward and twisted to one side. It will be speculated these beings developed a rectangular growth on the hand that was impossible to ignore. How these curious appendages arose will always remain a puzzle, but scientists will explain their disappearance by suggesting that the mutants often did not live long enough to reproduce having been killed off by fatal accidents sustained while paying no attention to their surroundings. We know, of course, the deformity is the result of constantly staring at a cell phone.

My remains, if discovered, will lack evidence of such an anatomical anomaly.

Though I use a phone–selectively–and appreciate its value, I often look back on pre-tech days with nostalgia. Those bygone times were less convenient, but in many ways, more pleasant. We got out into the world more and encountered real live humans. Our activities were uninterrupted by ring tones and dings. We paid full attention to the world and to the people around us. We were not immediately aware of every calamity everywhere in the world. We were not relentlessly beleaguered by competing interests seeking to manipulate us. It was a lot easier to know the difference between real and fake news.

We had to plan ahead and use maps that not only provided directions on how to get somewhere but oriented us as to where we actually were.

We had time to digest information and to think things through before sending off knee-jerk, and often jerky, replies.

We had time to listen to our own thoughts.

Life was more than just a series of photo ops and image building opportunities.

Some aspects of tech, even those that most people regard as positives, are, to my mind, negatives. For example, social media, a huge time sink that spreads lies, stokes the culture wars, has led to a sharp increase in teen depression and suicide and makes us easier targets for scammers.

As I see it, one big negative is that people have come to expect others to be, and in turn are expected to be, constantly available. Consequently, many are likely to be paying more attention to their phones than to present company. Even kids in class.

And to think-during my school days, chewing gum was considered an unacceptable distraction.

Since the more someone gets involved with their phone, the tougher it is to resist its siren call, my wife and I choose not to get addicted to begin with.

Our phones are turned off almost all the time. Friends, even the few who know our numbers, know our cells are usually the worst possible way to reach us.

Many people would find this at best, quaint and at worst, rude. I have no doubt many of my friends consider me a nutcase and wonder why I’m so “stubborn” about this. So be it.

Admittedly it’s easier for me not to develop a phone addiction than it is for most people. My lifestyle and usual daily activities involve a lot of time at home. I check emails on my computer or ipad several times a day. I’ve yet to miss anything that’s really important by not attending to a dinging little hunk of plastic every few seconds.

My preferred activities, like writing this blog, require uninterrupted time.

Another, perhaps, even more important reason I hate being at anyone’s beck and call is my professional experience as a psychiatrist in solo practice. I spent over 40 years of my life saddled with a pager or a phone 24/7 except when I was being covered by another physician. This interfered with my freedom to come and go as I pleased. It interrupted my sleep and provided a constant undercurrent of anticipatory stress. Spontaneity was out of the question. Plans had to be made far in advance as coverage schedules could not be changed on a whim.

The fact was that calls to my dedicated emergency cell phone, just like most of the calls my friends permit to interrupt our conversations these days, were usually urgent only in the minds of the callers. Few required an immediate response.

Just as I never answered my office land line during therapy sessions, I never answered my emergency cell phone– ever. The outgoing message said if a patient felt their problem was life threatening they were to call 911 or report to the crisis unit of our local state psychiatric hospital. Otherwise, I’d return their call “as soon as possible.”

Actually I listened to the messages right away, but since I knew my patients well enough to know whether they were likely to be a danger to self or others, I usually kept them waiting for up to several hours before responding. (This never resulted in an adverse event by the way.) By the time I got back to them, most had already resolved the issue on their own. This provided a lesson in self reliance and actively treated excess dependency issues. It also made them aware, since many of them were narcissists, the world did not revolve around them. A significant benefit to me was that once patients realized I was not immediately available, they soon stopped calling.

After having endured all those years of bondage, I rejoice in, cherish and closely guard my freedom and the quiet space it provides to think and reflect and to be fully present in social encounters.

Most people these days, maybe because it makes them feel important, maybe because they are anxious, maybe because they simply don’t think about it, seem to welcome constant interruptions. I try not to judge, but I am not interested in becoming one of them.

As phones become more essential as a means to performing routine tasks, I’m sure I will eventually use mine more the way most people do, but I surely won’t be staring at it all the time. Not when it puts me in danger or interferes with concentrating on the task at hand or the people I happen to be with.

Call me a cranky old fuddy-duddy, but I find it off-putting when people I’m with interrupt our conversations to respond to, or worse to initiate, non-emergency calls and texts. They will never receive such treatment from me. Common courtesy dictates that I give my undivided attention to present company. Is it too much to wish they’d do the same for me?

People do have the option to turn their phones off when, for example, sharing a meal with friends, but do they? In my experience, at least, they don’t.

Ah well. I just grin and bear it. After all, it’s me who’s the oddball.

Admittedly, I don’t have little kids or patients to worry about any longer. My wife and I spend most of our time together, though when we are apart, we do try to remember to carry our phones and have them on “just in case.”

I understand others are not in the same situation, but many of my friends and acquaintances are. Still, they willingly tether themselves to their phones.

That doesn’t seem to trouble them one bit, but it sure annoys the hell out of me.