On New Year’s Eve, 2015, I decided to cancel my phone plan. To be honest, it was not so much a conscious decision as something that came about out of inertia. My existing plan wasn’t the best in terms of price or service, and I wanted to find one that was just so. As I kept searching for it, my significant other suggested that I should just try doing without a phone for a while.
I found the idea tantalising, but also terrifying in a very primal sense. In many ways, the phone feels like a vital lifeline and to be without one means to be without access to money, family, friends and information. If you have a phone, you are never entirely alone. All of the world’s resources – your friends, conversations, books, music, and customer service – are available to you through the great, wild world of the internet. My fear wasn’t simply that I wouldn’t have access to all of this, but that being without a phone would mean that I would lose a certain kind of security. In concrete terms, it would mean that I would not be able to call out for help if I was in danger.
The fear, I reasoned with myself, was irrational. As an urban dweller, I do not go hunting or have chance encounters with lions or other wild beasts. Nor do I wander about in a desolate landscape with restricted access to food and shelter. However, even though I can always easily walk into the nearest coffee shop and mall for my needs, I am also aware that urban life is not without its dangers. Who knows what horrors await me when I turn the next street corner? What if a man leaps out at me and, instead of the usual flashing, decides to take things further? What if my Uber driver has malicious intent? In these situations, wouldn’t it be useful to have a phone to call for help? Just as I was about to dismiss my plan of not having a phone, I found out that if you’re in danger, you can still automatically dial emergency services, even without an active wireless subscription.
Cheat codes
But then what about other social emergencies? What if someone needs me? What if I need them? The truth is, though, that no one needs me that much. I do have friends, but not the sort who typically call me up at 2 am. I have read about these friendships, but, luckily, have not experienced them.
I still wasn’t entirely convinced, but one week without an active phone connection stretched into two, and then four, and before I knew it, a couple of months had passed. To be fair, I had a device – a phone that I could use to connect to Wi-Fi, but when I was out of Wi-Fi range, which was usually while I was commuting, I was left to my own devices. I could no longer call or text when I was sitting in a bus or have a phone conversation with someone as I was walking somewhere. I had to be present all the time. To the sounds of traffic, that crying baby and passers-by. I want to write how being in the moment made me a better person, the kind of person who is always present, and that it improved my relationships but the truth is that many of my relationships actually suffered.
Relationships take effort. They require keeping in touch, asking how the other person is, and I was no longer part of the conversation. In the beginning, I tried to lie about my phoneless situation, so that I wouldn’t be seen as some kind of technophobe, who was hopelessly out of touch with the times. (If there is one thing I have learned, it is that one shouldn’t stand out too much.) I told everybody that I was in-between plans, that my phone wasn’t working, that the battery was dead. To continue the facade, eventually I got myself a Google Voice number, which meant that people could send texts or leave me voice messages that would show up in my email inbox.
Low expectations
Where I tried to maintain a facade of being connected and normal, my boyfriend was the opposite. He did have a phone – which his parents got him, so they could be in touch with their only son – but he never carried it with him. If he did, it was always in airplane mode. What this meant is that when you made a plan with him, you had to show up. Initially, it puzzled me and I asked him what he would do if he had to cancel at the last minute. He said he doesn’t cancel meetings at the last minute. What if something unforeseen came up? Nothing ever comes up, he said, and added that as long as he is well and alive, he will show up on time and wait. But what if the other party cancels at the last minute? He admitted that it had happened, but he would show up regardless and wait for them. I made up my mind right then that I would marry this person (which incidentally I did).
I tried to apply this stoic attitude to my own phoneless situation. There were problems, to be sure. For instance, I could no longer arrange spontaneous coffee sessions with my friends, nor could they do the same with me. If I did make a plan with someone, it had to be premeditated. I had to show up to my appointments (casual and professional) on time or cancel much ahead of time. I like to think that being on time and sticking to my plans helped me build character, but I cannot say for sure.
Sometimes I would meet friends and hear about impromptu gatherings that had stretched on for hours. Initially I felt left out, but over time this fear of missing out slowly faded away. Instead, I began to experience relief at not having to answer instant messages, well, instantly. Friends became used to me not replying right away and before I knew it, I had entered a new era of friendships with low expectations.
To be honest, I have been trying for a long time to cultivate friendships that involve minimum fuss. I don’t usually wish people on birthdays or anniversaries and I don’t expect it of them. WhatsApp groups makes me nervous and phone conversations are always an awkward experience. Perhaps this makes me an introvert or just plain lame, but over time I have come to accept that I define successful social interactions differently than most people do. I don’t engage in conversations over text messages as I can never type fast enough. To me, a ringing phone is largely an interruption, distraction and an inconvenience. Not having a phone helped me avoid the quick, instant communication that has come to characterise much of our digital interaction today. Personally, this was a positive experience, but I am aware that not many people would see it the same way.
Erased from memory
To me, the biggest inconvenience about not having a phone was the difficulty of commuting. I don’t drive as I much prefer walking, and what this means is that the radius of my world tends to be pretty small. Still, there are times when I need to venture out of my small circle, and public transport is often not the most time efficient way to get there. Having a phone means that you can quickly call a taxi service and reach your destination in relative comfort.
So after a year-and-a-half of not having a phone, I finally decided to get myself a phone plan. I went on Project Fi, a wireless service by Google. I was initially wary of the disadvantages, and I certainly did not want to be sucked in again into a world of quickie communications, but surprisingly, it seems like I had already dropped off the radar. People no longer text me or call me as much, and I am not sure if I have trained myself not to respond, or that they have simply forgotten about me. I often forget that I have a phone, and end up not charging it or simply leaving it at home. Most of my plans are still made via e-mail and I write all my messages only on my desktop computer.
Recently I installed Facebook messenger on my phone and immediately a number of people started e-waving at me. My tiny phone screen was suddenly awash with a flood of messages – “hi”, “hieee”, “how r u?”, “where r u”, etc. For a brief moment, I felt paralysed by the sudden onslaught of information and that was enough for me to start receiving follow-ups consisting entirely of punctuation marks – “?”, “????” “!” – and strange words such as “U must b Busy?”, “Bsy?”, “Byeeeee”.
I took a deep breath, told myself this isn’t why I got a phone, and promptly uninstalled the app.
