Keeping Tabs and Wasting Time

Hello lovely Rants readers. So yesterday I had an appointment to get my phone battery changed at a place in Soho. The slot had been booked since last Friday and I was taking advantage of the Apple offer to change battery for £25, before the offer ends on the 31st December. But then on Tuesday evening, I received an email, which I didn't see until Wednesday morning, which basically said we may not have a battery for you, so call us in advance. I called them and of course they didn't have any batteries left, despite this slot having been booked, specifically for a battery replacement, five days previously.

I frantically researched for an alternative spot and found the one remaining slot at the Apple store in Covent Garden at 3.35pm. I was teaching at 4.30pm but I figured it was my last shot and I'd be cutting it fine, but I should still make it. So I leave a little bit early to make sure I've got enough time to navigate the chaos that is Covent Garden at Christmas, and I've backed up my phone, done all the preamble they asked for and even managed to get my phone out of its heavy duty, you-will-not-break -even-if-I-drop-you, case, which is not easy.

I wait a few minutes to be seen and they basically tell me my battery is running at 90% which considering it is around 3 years old, is great. He also tells me I don't actually need to get it replaced, but A had been badgering me about this for months and obviously thought it should be done. And now I'm faced with a decision and I can't seem to make it. And I hate myself for that because I'm an independent woman who, believe it or not, can actually make decisions for herself, but when it comes to technology does not trust herself, because the technology generally hates her. So I call A, and feel the feminists judge me, because I ask him what he thinks I should do. And whilst I would love to save the money, A insists its the right way to go. So I do it. I hand over my phone and the guy says it'll be ready about 5.00pm.

I head off to teach two private lessons in Angel, without the ability to listen to music - as I gave in my phone - and without anyway of contacting anyone. But I had a good book I'd just started on the kindle: a YA I've been meaning to read for years, and I get stuck in. (All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven. It's very good.)

After teaching my final two students before Christmas, I ask about buses back to Convent Garden - again, can't check because of no phone - and I find my way back to the Apple store. It's now 6.40pm and I expect to be in and out. I am not. I am immediately signed in and they say it's busy but we'll have someone with you as soon as we can. Now I'm a patient person - I work with kids, I have to be - but after twenty minutes, I started to get a bit agitated. The lights were too bright. I was reading but not always taking it in, because if I lost myself to the book I might become invisible and they would pass right by me.

After half an hour, I started to very carefully, glare at the girl who signed me in. I was tired, hungry, dehydrated and borderline pissed off at this point, and still nothing. At this point I realise via my fitness watch that I've had a missed call - presumably from A - but whilst I can see I've been called, I can't actually answer a call. So I sit and think, he'll realise where I am, plus I'll be out of here soon. But after 45 minutes, I am still there, on the same stool, needing the toilet, my eyes now sick of the lights - I don't know how people work there eight hours a day - and I can't hold it in any longer. (My frustration not my pee.) The woman comes back and says, 'You've been waiting a while. Let me check up for you.' I say it's been 45 minutes, with the most polite yet pissed off tone I can manage. She finds someone else, who says give it five more minutes and if no one arrives, they will literally go up and get it themselves. I mean, if that was an option, why couldn't they have done that in the first place? But anyhoo, at least people are aware.

Three minutes later, a woman appears and bellows my name. But at this point I can't manage a smile. I'm not happy it's there, I'm tired and hungry/cranky - which is one of the worst types of cranky - and I know that A will have been panicking and sending messages and freaking out, because we're all so used to being able to contact someone all the time and to know where they are all the time, that the immediate thought when you can't is: panic, some one's hurt or dead or there's a zombie apocalypse. Chill out people. There was life before the technology that keeps tabs on us. There were days and weeks when you didn't contact people but you didn't immediately presume bad things. I kinda miss those days. But then I also missed listening to music on the bus journey.

Gilbert (my phone) was returned and hastily bundled back into his heavy duty case. There's a reason he looks so good and is in fine condition, because he is wrapped in armour enough to withstand my occasional lack of coordination, my lack of spacial awareness and the times when you just drop shit for no apparent reason. And there are the missed calls and the messages. A was so panicky that he wouldn't start cooking until he had heard from me. It is ridiculous what technology has done to us. We have to have contact or that person is in trouble. We have to have contact or something bad has happened.

What did we do before hand? Did parents really panic and worry every single second of the day because they didn't know your exact whereabouts? Did boyfriends and girlfriends, partners or spouses, panic about who was doing the shopping for the evening meal, or who was going to be back first, or where you were and what you were doing? No, you decided these things before you left the house, or you left a note, or you called them on the landline. And if there was an issue, then you found a pay phone, or you were just late back and then you explained the reason, or made an excuse.

We should try some experiments. Turn your phone off for a couple of hours, or refuse to answer messages and see what happens. Am I just cruel? Or would that be a lot of fun?

Rants out.