Technologically Impaired

Gravity, Still Undefeated

I wrote yesterday about my phone’s interaction with gravity on April 6.  Gravity is a harsh mistress.  Unyielding, unforgiving, likely the inspiration for Murphy and his single documented law.

What I thought was going to be a fast recovery was actually a festering wound, but it came without withdrawal pains and for that I am grateful.

Ancient History

We didn’t use to be technology dependent.  Even as late as when I was in college, I would leave my dorm or apartment and go to class and spend the day on campus without being reachable by phone.  We had these things called answering machines and the expectation was that if you left me a message, you’d get a callback, usually within 24 hours, without it being considered a snub.  That was normal.  I imagine that the iGen, having been born with a smartphone in their collective hands, have no idea what living without a phone means.  It’s actually not that bad.  You get to look up and not wonder what’s causing neck pain, you get to talk to people face to face, you can read a read book, with paper pages, you can go outside and experience sunlight (or moonlight) and fresh air.

But it’s critical to remember that in 2025 our smartphones aren’t just for calls anymore. They’re our lifelines, our maps, our cameras, our notepads, our GPS devices, our entertainment hubs, our social media connections and that’s like a serious drug addiction.  Current generations are being bred to be helpless without their phones.  Eye contact is a primal confrontation.

Teen social groups.

The Shopping Experience

Returning home late that Sunday night, I got on my computer and discovered that my 13 month old phone is the best technology last year had to offer and is no longer commercially available.  It does have a souped-up sibling that’s a year younger and Best Buy had a rock star sale on it, 40% off!

I really did not want to have to buy a brand new phone, but the universe conspired against me and my only path forward was to pull out my credit card.  Even at 40% off, my wallet let out a small, mournful whimper.

First thing Monday morning I drove to my neighborhood BestBuy and was greeted by a pale young man who looked like he hadn’t seen natural light since the pandemic started, whose primary source of Vitamin D and the Vampiric pale tan are courtesy of the OLED display, wearing heavy glasses and surrounded by the unmistakable iGen aura. I gave him the printout and a hopeful smile.

The young man got the phone I wanted and rang up the full price.  I pointed to the price on the printout.  I didn’t get the printout for the price, but for the model number, optional features and the non-offensive color that would make me happy.

“That was a special yesterday,” he said.  “We can’t honor it today.”

Seriously?  You advertised the special well after the store closed yesterday, with no intention of honoring it?  He graciously escalated my concern to his manager and I got the same answer back – I should have come in yesterday, even though I was still attached to a cliff face as the store was closing.

I did look up the phone on Amazon as I waited for the answer and they had the same 40% off deal.  Amazing!  Best Buy says they price match.  I was ready and asked about it when I was turned down on their sale price.  Turns out that price match is more of a guideline than a rule.  I was turned down on that as well.

Okay.  We’re talking hundreds of dollars here.  I wouldn’t flinch if it was twenty bucks or even fifty, but hundreds?  I’m perfectly willing to go to Amazon for that.  I’ll get it in a day with Amazon Prime, right?  May two days if they have to fly it across the country through storms and political turmoil and tariffs.  If I had to break my phone, right now was the best time, right before the massive tariffs kicked in.

The good news was that I got the awesome price, but the bad news was that like Best Buy’s price match and Corning’s Gorilla Glass promise, Amazon Prime’s shipping timeframe operates on a sliding scale of optimism, more of a guideline than a rule. I ordered Monday.  They did not ship until Thursday and the phone clearly went “Turtle Express” premium shipping, making it to me on Tuesday.

Turtle Express

Amish Paradise – Trust Physics, Question Everything Else

So given nine days with a smartphone that only responds to synaptic touch on its own schedule, how does life look in retrospect?  I’ll be honest, there are things that I missed, like the luxury of checking my e-mail on the go or responding to a text or trying to settle the spontaneous debate of whether armadillo armor is stronger than Corning Gorilla Glass, but I’m also not a Facebook fan or a Twitter guy (or Instagram and TikTok, which the members iGen are glued to).  I did not even feel like I was squeezing in that extra bike ride or sacrificing by picking up a book.  I enjoyed those things.  Not having to respond to every ding of a phone felt good at some primal level.

My saga of shattered screens and phantom discounts should serve as a cautionary tale. The universe operates on physics, not marketing slogans. And sales? Well, they’re often more of an elaborate dance than a genuine act of generosity. Proceed with skepticism and maybe invest in some extra-strength bubble wrap.

It’s important to remember that life does not require a signal from a cell tower.  It’s okay to disconnect and enjoy the outdoors.  If life hands you a cracked screen, take the hint: look up, unplug and maybe go touch some grass (just don’t drop your phone on it).