Cell Phones

My new boss, Teresa, the director of the CWU main campus writing center, asked if I have a cell phone number, and I had to confess the embarrassing truth. The following is part of the email I just sent to her:

"Theoretically, I do have a cell phone, but I don't even know the number. I have resisted the cell phone craze as much as possible, and only last winter finally bought a very simple phone that lets me pay $10 a month for 30 minutes that I've never used, but which make my boyfriend feel safer on the rare occasions I travel somewhere without him. Let me see if I can figure out how to make it give me the number...

Ha! I found it! (Okay, I asked Michael, and he gave me a weird look, but he did tell me the number.)

(number omitted)

You're welcome to give it a try, but I warn you that I rarely turn it on, and it spent most of the month of October lost in the bottom of a school bag that had become too small for all the stuff teachers seem to gather in order to properly do our jobs and had therefore been regulated to the bottom of the coat closet. I think I know how to check the voicemail. (Honestly, I think email might be the best bet until my office phone is set up.)"

I just have never been able to see the need that anyone might have to get a hold of me 24/7. If I'm not home and I don't answer the phone, leave me a message and I'll call back later. Cell phones all too frequently offer (in my opinion) an excuse to be rude in public and to drive unsafely. I refuse to buy into the theory that I need to be in constant contact with everyone. I have a home phone, an office phone, and three computers with Internet access. That's enough! (And for the few times I do actually need a cell phone, I'll admit, it's nice to have the little emergency phone. It's there for me when I need it, but it's not built into my ear.)

A story about cell phones and earpieces: On campus one day last quarter at North, I walk approaching the library. Outside the doors, a woman who I know very slightly was standing, apparently lost in thought. I prepared to smile and nod as I passed her, when to my surprise she said in a very friendly manner, "How you been doin' girlfriend? I haven't seen you in forever!"

I was surprised, because I thought we had a smile and nod relationship. I started to respond, "I'm... um... okay..."

She looked at me like I was nuts, then continued the phone conversation she'd been having on the tiny little phone that was shoved in her ear (and hidden under her hair). I should also note that she was wearing dark sunglasses, so there was no way to see whether she was talking to me or not. I felt like a complete moron, and I've avoided eye contact every time I've seen her since then.