Time to stand up to technology taking over your life

From the Nov. 26, 2006, editions of The Lima News
The frustrated voice on the message said it all.

"I don’t know why you even bother having a cell phone if you’re not going to answer it," an old friend said.

Something about his tone made me wonder if I was mastering technology or if technology was mastering me. Perhaps it truly was my duty to flip the little black phone open every time it rumbled in my pocket.

It reminded me of a nasty e-mail from another friend. I’d gone a day or two too long before answering an e-mail, so I received a reminder about the joys of the Internet.

"E-mail is an instant form of communication," she wrote. "That means you can actually answer it as soon as you receive it."

Technology is a wonderful thing, but sometimes it’s wonderfully complicating to your life. Everything becomes so instantaneous, you miss out on the most important human decisions: the decision to deal with it later.

Every day, we divide our worlds into three categories. There are things you have to do now. There are the things you have to do later. Then there are the things you may never do (including those wedding thank you’s I’m negligently late on completing).

Technology seems to prioritize everything for us.

I don’t want to come off as a technophobe. I had an e-mail address about four years before they started becoming popular. I used to surf the Internet when it was all words and no pictures. I had my first computer when I was 8.

The more I learn about technology, though, the more I vow not to let it control my life.

I remember when our family got its first answering machine. It was such a wonderful innovation, a remarkable machine answering the phone when we couldn’t. It meant we didn’t have to camp out by the telephone all the time. It meant we’d know who wanted to be in touch with us.

Then came the cell phone, which I tried to resist as long as I could. I finally joined the mobile phone generation in 2002, long after most of my friends and family converted. It was incredible, the ability to talk to anyone, anywhere.

Somewhere along the way, though, people’s attitudes changed. We’ve changed from just wanting people to know we wish to speak with them to expecting them to be available whenever we punch their digits into the keypad.

About a year ago, a co-worker wrote a paper about the downfalls of constant communication. He interviewed me for the project, since at the time I worked from home, using cell phones, e-mails and the Internet to stay in touch with the Lima office.

His questions reminded me of the biggest difference between my life and that of my father. Whenever Dad returned home from a long day at the factory, Mom asked, "How was work?"

His answer was always the same: "Over."

It’s not so easy to say that anymore. Perhaps three times a week the antiquated Alltel phone I carry in my right pocket begins ringing as we put the little one to bed. It’s someone at the office, asking a simple enough question that requires minimal thought to answer (which is fortunate, as I have minimal thought to spare).

Technology keeps us connected constantly. Sometimes that’s a good thing, such as the daily noontime conversation with my wife, reminding me why I fight through my workday struggles. Sometimes it’s a bad thing, such as that work call interrupting a comfortable night on the couch.

I’ll respond to that e-mail from my friend. I’ll call back that other buddy. They’ll happen on my schedule, though, when I decide it’s the right time to do it. You can rest assured I’ll understand if they don’t get back to me right away.