I’m the only person I know with a flip phone.
People feel sorry for me for owning it. I don’t just suspect that; I’ve actually heard comments.
What people don’t know is that Bell Mobility has been texting me for about two years, telling me I should get an upgrade already. Heck, they’ll even buy me a new phone. At this point, I think I’m embarrassing them.
Here’s why I still have it:
- It still works. And it should. I mean, it’s only 5 years old.
- It’s the type of phone that people don’t expect you to be attached to, which is great because no one assumes I’m accessible 24/7.
- I like knowing that I won’t have cardiac arrest if I drop it or lose it.
- A while ago, I made the decision not to upgrade just because I can or just because a new model has come out. Even if it’s free. Because of waste. Because of mining conditions in developing countries (see: Conflict Minerals). Because I don’t need it right now. Because I don’t want to become a rude person who checks her smartphone constantly.
I will admit that as more people comment on my phone, I’m starting to feel more sorry for myself. It has gotten to the point where I don’t bring my phone out in front of clients, as not to embarrass the agency I work for. I’ll even cover the phone with my free hand while I’m texting on the train ride home.
Still, I find myself not wanting to give in. I shouldn’t have to feel ridiculous — which I do — about using my phone. But here we are. This is the society we live in. And we can’t be surprised that when we are hit over the head with the same messages thousands of times daily, they start affecting us. It’s a hard current to flow against. As someone who is constantly aware of advertising and mass consumption, I’m still finding difficult not to trade in this perfectly good phone, in light of what everyone else a) has, and b) infers about me because of my phone.