Dialogue: Owner's life enriched by theft of cellphone

Do you believe that you couldn't cope without a cellphone? Not only is it possible to do so but it might even improve your communication skills, writes TAMSIN GEORGE*.

Two weeks ago my cellphone was stolen. For some reason, someone thought my heavy old Nokia 5110, which had the battery stuck to it, was worthy of taking.

Silly them. Not only was it on its last legs but it was a prepay. They weren't going to get far with that.

But neither was I, for I was unashamedly a texting addict.

My little red friend and I would walk the streets, texting stories, comments or just "hellos" to the handful of friends who shared my texting delight.

It felt kind of lonely without my phone at first. I guess I was in shock. I was almost afraid.

How would I cope?

My imagination went into overdrive, with pictures of me stranded around the city with no means of getting in touch with someone.

Even worse, what if I needed to be picked up? How would my boyfriend know?

I had come to rely so heavily on my little red phone. It was my phone directory. All those lost numbers. Most of them I never used, never would, but somehow having a huge list of names and numbers felt useful.

In moments of boredom, I could just text a friend, in moments of disorganisation I could quickly text a "running l8, b thr soon," or the most usual, "wot tym u fin? I fin in 30 mins, c u soon."

I was a masterful texter. I had all the abbreviations, universal and my own. I was fast at texting and I could touch text. Somehow my fingers knew their way around the keypad and I could text without looking at them.

I loved the freedom that a cellphone gave me - well, that was my excuse. I could be anywhere, doing anything and anyone could get in touch with me.

How handy. I did not need to make plans too far in advance for I could just quickly text to someone, "kof e @ Santos?" and still be out and about, doing my thing.

I was never alone, not when I had my phone.

Yet as I walk around now, doing my thing, I walk around seeing the world. Not head down, in a texting fury. I have to keep my thoughts to myself until I actually see someone and talk to them.

I realised quite quickly that some of my friendships were reverting to texting conversations. How little did I actually talk to them? All of us leading such busy lives meant that quite often all I would hear from them, and vice versa, was a "hi, hope u hv a gr8 day, c u soon xx."

Even friends I saw a lot of would still be in constant text communication.

I have decided to go without a cellphone for a little while. You could call it a social experiment.

Not having a cellphone makes me probably one of only a handful of such people in Auckland.

But it also requires organisation. On my behalf, and that of my friends. I have to actually pick up the telephone, dial their number and talk to them to make a date. I have to communicate clearly, and make a commitment to this date to avoid either of us being stood up. No last-minute "sorry cnt make it, c u l8r," or even "running l8, b thr in 5."

It's taken me a couple of days to get used to this old-fashioned way of living. I leave messages on their voice-mail (just a quick "Hello, ring me for a coffee"), and it means I have to plan my day before I leave the house.

I still just drop in on people, but it comes with a greater risk - I don't know if they are going to be there, and they don't know to expect me to drop in.

Some of my friends seem to be having trouble keeping up with my new lack of technology. I haven't heard from a couple in a few days now.

It has been only a couple of weeks since my phone was uplifted from my possession. But I feel freer without it. There is something quite nice about being unreachable. Every day I am awol as far as communication goes. People have to make more of an effort to contact me.

If people want to get in touch with me, they have to ring first thing in the morning or in the evening. Otherwise they must leave a message on my home phone. There can be no last-minute demands of me because it simply is not possible.

If they do not get hold of me, and end up leaving a message, they have to wait for me to reply. Reply I must, for if I don't, it breaks the flow of communication.

I cannot assume that they will know I have received the message and then endeavour to meet them at the time they mentioned. I cannot ask them to be mind readers, nor can I waste our time assuming we will meet up.

Likewise, I am enjoying making more of an effort to contact people. My friends' voices are actually in my ear or opposite me, rather than in my head reading a text.

Living without my cellphone has made me more aware of being punctual. I simply have to turn up on time. I have no means of forewarning anyone of any tardiness, so as not to waste their precious time. I have to be reliable. I need to be, in order for them to be reliable for me.

I had, in fact, owned that phone for less than two years, yet how quickly I had adopted the new way of living.

How quickly I had become lazy in communicating with people, with keeping time.

I don't miss my little red friend. I do have to buy a watch but I think, dare I say it, the thief has done me a favour.

*Tamsin George is a University of Auckland student.