Stop This Train

Technology today makes it so that we are always connected. There’s no such thing as “I was away from my phone,” because your phone is always with you and your life lives on your phone. Texts, e-mails, wall posts, everything. A silenced phone is not a dead phone. You are never physically unable to respond in some fashion (unless you are in Yellowstone National Park). "Did you get my e-mail?" is actually a waste of air. Let’s face it -- even voicemails are a thing of the past. And most of the time, this connectedness is beautiful, especially when our friends and family are scattered across the country or even the world.

Okay, so with all due respect, can the moguls of mobility just slow down a little please? My personality is incompatible with this roaring new age. I can’t help but yearn for the days when I could just have some alone time. Time to sit down and think. Reflect. Those days when I could just “let it go to the machine” because I didn’t feel like talking. Those days when I could think for a couple minutes before giving a response.

It’s not so much the fact that real-time communication is expected even in the virtual world, but the implications of not following new-age communication etiquette that worries me. When someone takes over a day to respond to a phone call, we immediately jump to conclusions. Or rather, conclusion. “Maybe she’s avoiding me.” When someone takes more than half a day to respond to an email, we consider him careless and irresponsible. This day in age, e-mail notifications make it so incoming email is more noticeable than your heartbeat. There is absolutely no ambiguity. When you send a letter snail mail (this means you put a physical piece of paper in an envelope, address it (no @), and put a stamp on it), there is always that mystery. “I wonder if she got my letter? Maybe it didn’t get in today…” But with e-mail and text, it’s different. The exchange is instantaneous. The sender can calculate (to the millisecond) how long the recipient takes to respond. And can spend the time concocting reasons for negligence.

The problem is that no individual knows his exact stance on the notion of immediate responses. We don't want people to think we have "nothing to do" but to sit and look for incoming e-mail or wall posts. We want people to think that we are out painting the world red. Guess what? Modern technology has made it so that you can check and respond to your email with your right hand while holding the paint brush in your left. Nobody thinks you are a worthless waste of space if you respond immediately. I just don't want you to think I'm a waste of space when I don't respond immediately.

I understand, though. We’re trying to make virtual communication as similar to face-to-face communication as possible. We want to give users the experience of standing next to their friends, chatting away a mile a minute. And while this is an altruistic desire, sometimes there’s value in the uncertainty. The mystery. Expectation is the root of heartache. Knowing the exact moment a person receives your spark signal only makes it easier for you to feel insignificant and slapped in the face when a response is not immediate.

Now don’t go thinking I won’t be by your side in your time of need or that I’m snickering as I watch my phone fall to the ground as it rings and vibrates with your call. (And anyway, most of the time I'm on the other side, doing the waiting.) I’m just saying that I refuse to be suffocated by the mobility monster. At some point or another, we all need a minute to stop and catch our breath.