Why I need a cell phone

I have never disputed the argument that “in this day and age,” I really do need a cellular phone. Case in point:

Two nights ago, my nearest and dearest friend (and also next-door-neighbor) Emily arrived home from her family trip to Boston. She came to my house around 11p.m., and we sat in my kitchen talking until almost 2a.m. During that time, we made plans to drive to the North Side the following night so I could meet some of her friends from school (she goes to Washington and Jefferson College). The catch was that she had to waitress at the country club where she works that night before we could go, so she didn’t know exactly what time we would leave. She estimated that she would be let off anytime between 9 and 11p.m.

That day, I was scheduled to work until 3p.m. Then, I had a doctor’s appointment, and on the way home, I picked up Ben from his house. He had called me that day, and we were planning to go running together. The last few times we have gone running (this happens only sporadically, you see), he has had other plans almost immediately after we finished our two miles. Therefore, I did not anticipate spending the rest of the day with him. However, he had a new rap artist he wanted me to hear and a comedy DVD he wanted me to see, so we took our sweaty selves back to his house and set up in the den with food, beverage, and entertainment for the next several hours.

When the DVD had finished playing, it was around 7:30p.m. Knowing Emily, I estimated that even if she was let off of work at 9p.m., she would need at least forty-five minutes to an hour to come home, change, eat dinner, and putz around as she always insists on doing before we ever go anywhere. Therefore, I figured that if I left by 9:30p.m., I would have ample time to get home, take a shower, and be ready to go by the time she called me to leave.

Around 9:20p.m., Ben’s phone rang. It had been ringing on and off all evening from the other room, and he finally just got up and retrieved it so that it would be within reach when he needed to answer it (since he didn’t bother when it was in the other room). He fished it out of his pocket and answered. “Oh, hi!” As I detected the surprise in his voice, my heart sank. It was Emily. “Where are you? I’ve been home since eight o’clock looking for you!” Funny that she thought to call Ben, considering the previous night I had ranted about how all of my recent efforts to get together with him had come to sour ends.

As I got ready to leave, Ben pointed out the painfully obvious reality of the situation: “See, if you had a cell phone, she could have just called you when she got off work. Then this wouldn’t have been a problem.” Yeah, thanks for the advice.

Then, yesterday while I was at work, I e-mailed with a man who is supposed to be selling me a flash drive off of craigslist (a website that is virtually one big network of classified ads). I arranged to meet him at a location in Oakland near where I work the following afternoon (today). My plan was to call him before I left my house, take a bus to Oakland, and wait for him at the landmark until noon—the time when we arranged to meet.

Because of cell phones, this endeavor was a failure from the outset. When I called his cell phone from my house at 11a.m., no one picked up. I left a message but realized while I was leaving it that he had no way to get in contact with me. “I’d leave you my number,” I found myself saying, “but I actually can’t because I don’t have a cell phone. Hope to see you at twelve!”

As I sat on the steps of our meeting point, I realized that I had no idea who I was looking for, nor did he have any idea what I looked like. Thinking that maybe now he would answer his phone, I went across the street to the University of Pittsburgh Student Union and tried using a pay phone to call him. Much to my frustration, however, the pay phone would not take my money and, therefore, would not let me make the call. I waited until quarter after twelve before giving up and walking to work.

Upon arrival at my office, I tried phoning him again, but to no avail. Then, when I checked my e-mail, I came upon a message from him. Apparently, he had written to me yesterday telling me that his child had dropped his cell phone in the pool and to try calling his house. Apparently it was too late for that, however, because when I called his house, the woman who answered (presumably his wife?) said he was not home. She didn’t know if he had driven to Oakland or not.

As I recount this second story, I am beginning to realize that it wouldn’t have made a difference if I had a cell phone or not. He didn’t have his, so there was no way he could have called me when he arrived at our meeting place to determine my identity or specific location. Furthermore, I did what any logical person would have done in my cell phone-less position and tried to use a pay phone. Yet, the call could obviously not go through because his cell phone was out of order.

All of this being said, I am still proud to be a “cell phone hold-out.” I don’t know anyone—aside from my mother—my age or otherwise who does not have a cell phone. I have seen how dependent people have become on these little commodities (no one can make plans anymore without including the disclaimer, “I’ll call you”) and how annoying they can be (Ben must have gotten at least eight phone calls while we were hanging out, seven callers who would never have called had there been any risk of his parents answering instead of him). I do find various circumstances in which having a cell phone would be very handy—the incident with Emily the other night being one of them—but these sporadic occurrences never seem worth paying $40-a-month-plus-tax. Nor do I need one more thing to carry around. My wallet, keys, checkbook, calendar, sunglasses, Tylenol, notebook, and pen are more than enough.