Technology Time Machine

I never realized how addicted I am to my smart phone until I didn’t have it. It’s something I have with me at all times. Of course, I’m in the newspaper business, which is a 24/7 availability demand of my position — kind of like being married.

Anyway, last week I was having one of those days, a Monday morning where I was preoccupied with something, and so while getting ready for work I was on autopilot. I was in deep thought all the way to work — about an hour ride in traffic.

After parking my car at the office, I instinctively reached into my pocket for my phone and suddenly realized it wasn’t there! I panicked, and frantically searched my car and the area around it, thinking I might have dropped it. I mentally retraced my activities that morning and realized I must have left it home on my bedroom dresser.

By that time no one was home to check for me, so I contemplated going all the way back to get my precious communication device. But the roads were still locked in morning traffic, and by the time I retrieved it and drove back, I would be late to work by about two or three hours. I started having anxiety that people were trying to reach me, including my boss.

Then it came to me that I could ask my sister to swing by my house on her way to work, pick up my phone and take it with her to her office, which is only 10 minutes away from mine. The problem was I couldn’t call her, as her number was in my phone. It was as though I was thrust back in time and was suddenly living in caveman times.

I would actually have to talk with people face-to-face, using a method called speech. After grabbing a cup of coffee, I had advanced to the Iron Age and used a landline to call my wife and get my sister’s cell phone number. My sister agreed, and said she would call my landline when she got to her office with my phone. Problem solved.

I was on my way to meet her when I saw my gas tank was empty, so I pulled into a convenience store gas station. That’s when I realized I didn’t have my second most important carry items — my wallet and credit cards. I thought maybe I could go back in time again and barter myself some gas.

rnagasawa@midweek.com