Valentine's Day 2011: Day One of My Year Long Experiment

So... Today is (or should I say was) Valentine's Day. Two days ago, I vowed that today I would break up with my cell phone.

Today... That is exactly what I did.

As usual, I procrastinated, waiting till after classes and work to drive out to the Sprint store. I may, or may not, have also added a nap or two somewhere in there. After being on a cell phone contract for over 5 years, I just wasn't sure I was ready to end it.


Sometime around 6pm, I called in backup. David, my real Valentine, appeared for moral support. We drove to the Sprint store, and parked.... Has anyone ever noticed that cell phone stores and kiosks are incredibly intimidating? Every store is a spotless, modern, vast open space filled with a cornucopia of wireless technology and an army of persuasive men. Not the type of place I would normally venture. I got out of the car.

It's sometimes important to break large tasks into smaller, more manageable goals (something that I NEVER do). Getting out of the car was the first goal. After that, getting into the store was easy because Rochester in February is not the premier time/place to be going outside.

After getting into the store and paying my regular bill, I sheepishly told the man behind the counter that I wanted to cancel my contract.

"Oh, we can't do that here. You'll have to call customer service."

What!? Is there no sanity in the world today? I want to talk to someone, face to face. This whole canceling my phone thing is a big deal to me, and I don't appreciate working through it with a faceless machine. So, I left the store no closer to the goal than when I had arrived.

In the parking lot outside my residence hall (that's right, Sarah...residence hall. I hope you're reading) I pulled out my cell phone. Little did it know that it would become a key instrument in it's own eminent demise. There may have been a small twinge of sympathy in my heart for this poor inanimate, but that didn't last long.

After going through the usual process mechanized automation, a very nice customer service girl answered. Of course she wasn't in the right department (why would hitting the "1" button possibly correlate to what the machine tells you it will?), so she transferred my call.

The gentleman who helped me in "Account Services" was also very nice, although his long pauses between the questions he asked made me feel like I was at an interview with copious notes being taken.


Me: "I'd like to cancel my account."

Him: "Is there any particular reason behind wanting to cancel the account?"

Me: ***thinking, "It's none of your damn business why I want to cancel."***
         "No, I just don't want a cell phone anymore."

Him: "Woah... Goin off the grid, huh?"

Me:"Yeah."

Him: "Can I offer you a lower price plan?"



Tempting, but no... It's over.

He then informed me that I would be charged $90 for the cancellation, and that my phone would deactivate in 5 days. Hmmm... 5 days. That's not today. 

The evening was filled with meetings for work, and a photo op for the United Way. Then I drove home, to MY home, not the residence halls. Half way through my first batch of cookies (at 11:20pm), the red light began to blink.

A text message.

I open the text to read, "Are you on campus?"  At this moment, I realize that I've made the right decision. No, I am not on campus. I am not on campus, and I am not on call. That is not part of my job as a Resident Advisor, but some of my residents believe that it is.

Email me. Send me a Facebook message. Here's an original idea: knock on my door! If I do not answer, that means I'm not there. You can leave me a note, and I'll help you as soon as I get back. Your problems DO matter to me, but I will not stop my life to answer to you. I gotta take care of me too, and I answer to no one but God.

At 11:30 pm I turned off my cell phone for good. Half an hour before the end of Valentine's Day, but I still made my deadline.

Preparing for the Challenge

Some people can't live without the comfort of their cell phones.  Having a wealth of personal phone numbers at one's finger tips, and the ability to contact or be contacted at anytime, is an irreplaceable necessity for most individuals living in today's society.  I am not one of those people.

Meet The Thing...

This is one of my possessions that does not get an actual name (as opposed to the car, or the camera... things of some value).  This unfortunate piece of machinery does not deserve a name.  It deserves to burn in hell, nameless, forever questioning its identity the same way it questions its ability to send a basic text message without delay.

My relationship with The Thing has been rough from the start. About a year and a half ago (give or take a few months), in December, I was ready for an upgrade with my cell phone carrier.  At least, I thought I was getting an upgrade.

Yes, I will admit that I was desperately in need of a new phone, and the charming young man at the Sprint kiosk was very convincing. With his winsome smile and charismatic stories of grad-school glory, he obstructed my common sense. I fell victim to the sale, and what a victim I truly was... and would remain for the next year and a half.

Well... I WILL BE A VICTIM NO LONGER! That's right, readers. I am breaking free.

This weekend, I have been preparing for the separation.  An emergency disposable phone was purchased. A land line with an answering machine (children of the '90s, you remember those) has been set up. The necessary Facebook messages are being sent, and a blog has been started.

On Valentine's Day 2011, I am breaking up with my cell phone, and you won't be seeing me with another for a whole year.