I Don’t Text While Driving, Walking, or Standing Still

By Roger Dale Loring

Roger Dale Loring is a genuine baby boomer who finds his existence in the rapidly-changing world rather perplexing. In his latest book, he once again offers a collection of lighthearted essays about his dilemmas from the perspective of his current “if-they-don’t-have-a-senior-discount, I’m-not-going-there” age.

Realizing that the aging process evolved in a way that his adolescent mind never envisioned, Loring now finds that his views on life changes are disturbingly similar to the views of the old people of his youth, people he frequently characterized as old fogies. His essays highlight his humorous take on life that include opinions about issues such as cell phone upgrades; a man’s attention span while operating a television remote; seasonal purse shopping; the differing conversation patterns of men and women; the three hardest part-time jobs in America; the crazy world of politics where preaching to the choir dominates all campaigns; and, of course, the trauma of buying toothpaste.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Jun 29, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483451671

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I Don’t Text While Driving, Walking, or Standing Still

I recently received a phone call from Verizon concerning my cell phone. The call surprised me because I had forgotten that I had a cell phone. No, my memory is not slipping; it’s just that I don’t use my cell phone very often, so I was suffering from the classic out of sight, out of mind.

When the woman on the phone assured me that I indeed did own a cell phone, she proceeded to explain that I could upgrade it. She pointed out that I have what is called a flip phone, and judging by the way she talked, it apparently could bring big bucks on Antiques Roadshow right now. It seems flip phones don’t need to wait the usual one hundred years before they qualify for antique status. The main reason flip phones go from new to vintage to antique almost overnight is rather simple: they are not smartphones.

The lady from Verizon wanted to save me from the humiliation of my using such an antiquated device. She was going to do this by convincing me that I needed a smartphone. She quickly made just that point: Perhaps you are now ready to move up to one of our smartphones? I thought, Really? I can’t fly a plane with propellers, and yet you think I’m ready for a jet.

In order to help me understand the value of smartphones, the woman said she first needed to run an analysis of my phone use. I smiled, which she could not see. Even if her phone had video-chat capabilities, which I understand is fairly common nowadays, my phone definitely did not possess such an ability. Regardless of the type of phone she was using, she said the analysis of my phone use would take only a few minutes, if I didn’t mind waiting.

I started to tell the woman that it would take only a few seconds, when she immediately said, Oh, I have it now. It seems you have our ‘I forgot I have a cell phone’ plan, which allows you one hundred call minutes a month and unlimited texting. You used four call minutes seven months ago but no texting.

I explained to her that I didn’t remember what the four call minutes might have been about, but the no texting was easy to understand. You see, I don’t text while driving, walking, or standing still. While there is a safety issue with texting, particularly when driving, my reason for not texting has nothing to do with safety. The fact of the matter is that my ability to text is nonexistent, and if I could, I don’t know why I would.

After my comment about never texting, there was a pause. While not a long pause, I was pretty sure it was an awkward pause. I knew her hesitation was about having to proceed to the next step on her instruction sheet for getting people to upgrade their phones. I imagined she had probably never had to convince someone with the I forgot I have a cell phone plan that he or she should upgrade to any type of phone, let alone a smartphone. The next step was for her to begin explaining to me all the rather remarkable capabilities smartphones have. I was certain she realized that making such a step really didn’t seem like a logical thing to do.

Consequently, instead of following the script, she quickly thanked me, wished me a good day, and hung up the phone. It all happened so quickly that I wasn’t able to deliver my favorite, although clichéd, line, You know, I’m not smart enough to have a smartphone. Even without hearing me utter that rather silly statement, I guessed she still turned to her coworkers after our call and said, You’re never going to believe this.

This entire exchange clearly illustrates that the information superhighway has been built and is being improved at this very moment—which actually is pretty amazing for any type of highway—and I am being left behind. When it comes to my use of the information superhighway, I am still stuck in my garage, because I haven’t figured out how to work the remote control for my automatic garage door opener.

The point here is that being an older adult—older as in Social Security, Medicare, early breakfast at McDonald’s, and so on—I no longer welcome change with open arms. When I was a teenager, I was quick to point out that people who were the age I am now seemed to live in the past; they questioned why I wanted to grow sideburns, listen to small bands featuring just guitars and drums, and turn up the collars on my short-sleeved shirts. At the time, I called such clueless adults old fogies. Now it seems I am becoming a member of that group, at least when it comes to accepting technological advances in communication.

While I have been told the technological advances are supposed to make life easier, my reality, in fact, is that they actually create difficulties for me. First of all, the advances in technology occur on a far too regular basis. Just when I think I’m beginning to understand a particular change, another one quickly comes along, and I am back to square one.

Secondly, most of the changes concern the capability to do things that I really don’t see the need to do. For example, there is the issue of my phone upgrade. I realize younger generations are quick to welcome phone upgrades, a welcoming that is exhibited by thousands of young people willing to stand in line for hours in order to purchase the latest smartphone off the assembly line. When I was their age, I might have stood in line to get tickets to a Beatles or Stones concert, but not for a phone. No one needed a personal phone in those days anyway; there were pay phones all over the place. Now you can find such phones only on Antiques Roadshow, along with my model of flip phone, of course.

Since I was reluctant to delve into the world that a smartphone would apparently create for me, according to the pleasant woman who contacted me on behalf of my cell phone provider, it seemed I would be forever burdened with an outdated communications device. Before she abruptly ended our conversation, the lady from Verizon did tell me that my flip phone was good only for making phone calls and taking rather poor pictures, bits of information that I think were supposed to depress me—or perhaps shame me—to a point where I would quickly tell her to send me a smartphone via overnight mail.

Whatever her reasoning happened to be, the news had an entirely different effect on me. I was elated with my flip phone because—are you ready for this?—it turns out that I want only to make phone calls on my cell phone. I don’t care about taking pictures, poor quality or not. Although I consider talking to be the only use for a phone, that turns out to be a rather novel idea in today’s world of communication. I suspect Alexander Graham Bell is turning over in his grave.

Updated mobile phones do things that go far beyond just dialing a number, letting it ring, and when someone answers, saying, May I speak to Billy Bob? Today’s phone can be used to text Billy Bob, find directions to his house; play a game with him; download his favorite book or song; check the weather in his town; make reservations at his favorite restaurant; see innumerable pictures of his wife, kids, and dogs; and any number of other things having to do with him. I just want to ask Billy Bob if he wants to play golf tomorrow.

My idea of a phone upgrade involves changes on a much more limited scale. As kids, my friends and I considered a change from string to twine to be an upgrade to our tin can phones. And once I took my mother’s clothesline rope in an attempt to make long-distance calls on my tin can phones. That was a mistake on a couple of levels. It clearly didn’t work, and my mother really had planned on hanging up the sheets that day, so she was not amused to find clothesline poles without clothesline.

I also remember when the real phones in our house underwent a meaningful upgrade. It was an upgrade allowing people to pick up the phone and, instead of waiting for an operator to say, Number, please, just dial the number themselves. While that change was most welcome, the new rotary dial phones did not immediately end the annoying party lines that existed at the time. That change would occur later.

I don’t pretend to know the technical reasons party lines had to exist, but the idea that several families in the neighborhood had to share the same phone line was truly a nuisance. Since they shared the same line, each family had the capability of listening in on the conversations of the other families who might be using that line at any given time. Clearly, party lines were not appreciated when they existed years ago, but today they are quite the rage in the business world. The difference is that now they are called conference calls, and the more people listening in, the better.

The speakerphone-capability phones have also made it possible to turn even a personal call into a conference call. While people complained about party lines back in the day, they now seem thrilled that they can create their own party line whenever they feel like it. I guess progress is simply returning to the past.

The important point here is that phone upgrades in days gone by still allowed phone users to do what they were meant to do: enable people to talk. Today the makers of cell phones have a vision that their phones should go far beyond allowing a user to ask Billy Bob if he wants to play golf. They want their phones to be able to make a video of him playing golf, so he can see that he dips his right shoulder at contact with the ball, which really wouldn’t help much because that swing flaw is but one of his many other bad golf habits.

Not only can smartphones take pictures, especially the ever-popular selfies, but the phones can do many more rather unusual things, depending on which apps have been downloaded. For example, there is an app called RunPee, which lets its users know when it is the most convenient time during a particular movie to run to the bathroom without missing anything. What? If I have to make a trip to the restroom during a movie, I know my wife will fill me in on anything that I happen to miss during my absence. Instead of love being never having to say you are sorry, love actually is having a wife who says, I’ll tell what you missed if you bring me some popcorn when you come back.

I’m told there are also apps that allow people to make restaurant reservations, play any number of games—none of which improve your cardiovascular efficiency by the way—block phone calls from specific people—well, that app has definite possibilities—stay connected to Facebook, and buy things on eBay; and the list goes on and on.

Another app is called Sleep Bot. People can leave their cell phone in their bed, and this app will track movements and nocturnal noises, most commonly called snoring. Why anyone would want to do that totally escapes me, but I do know this app is totally unnecessary if you are married. It is pretty much a given that one function of a spouse is to point out your sleeping habits, such as hogging all of the covers and making those annoying nocturnal noises.

There is another available app called Untapped. While this app does many things, one of its more popular capabilities is recording rating and tasting notes about a beer you are enjoying. The app is apparently for future reference, so you know what beers are good and what beers are bad. I suspect the application of this system may start off okay, but then it begins to become less practical as the night proceeds. Later entries might consist of the following: Drank a beer called … it was called … the name was … it was … beer. Yes, that’s it, it was beer. Drank it pretty fast, so I’m not sure how it tasted, but once I get up from under the table, I will get another one.

My aversion to the apparently important capabilities of the now widely accepted smartphones flies in the face of young people. By young people I mean anyone of the age who does not understand my earlier reference to Alexander Graham Bell. Interestingly enough, smartphone capabilities enthrall these young people, with no regard for the man who started it all.

It is quite likely that the true value of smartphones for young people is that they are devices that they can use and their parents cannot. Even though parents could prevent this by not allowing their children to possess such devices, upsetting those children by doing so does not seem to be a valid option for parenting techniques of today—but that is an entirely different story.

It would seem that being able to use devices that their parents cannot use would allow young people to establish a tight bond among their peers. But that bond can never really be tight because apparently physical recognition of people does not play much of a role when using a smartphone. Personally, I find recognizing a person rather important in any type of bonding. As it turns out, teenagers today may rarely recognize each other when they do meet face to face. A main reason for this shortcoming—and yes, I do consider not being able to recognize a friend well enough to pick him or her out of a lineup a shortcoming—stems from the fact that two teenagers sitting side by side seem to prefer to communicate by texting each other on their smartphones instead of making eye contact.

Face-to-face communication requires lifting up