Cell phones: Why I hate them - Deliberately Random

I didn't always hate them. I used to see their true value. A driver stranded on the side of the road could certainly use one. So, too, could someone lost (as I often am). And they're great in an emergency - as long as all the signals go though. (How many people were unable to place calls on Sept. 11?)

But somewhere in their evolution, cellular telephones, or cell phones as most people call them, became just another excuse to work 24/7. They have turned being "on call" from being a figure of speech (for everyone except doctors and med students) to being a reality for the entire populace of 21st-century America. They encourage people to work at home, in their car and while grocery shopping. They take multi-tasking to a whole new level. But I digress. Let's step back a few years.

I used to enjoy driving my car. That was in junior year of high school when the phone plan my parents had was pretty shitty and the phone was there to get me found (remember: I get lost a lot) and in case of emergencies. The rule was simple: The car cannot leave the garage without the cell sleeping happily in the glove box.

Then, slowly but surely, the cell was promoted to riding in my purse when I was out with friends. That way I would be able to call if we were running late or had gotten stuck in traffic or who knows what other reason my parents had.

And then I had a blissful two years of being in college with no cell phone around me at all. My friends complained that they could never reach me. I pointed out that I had e-mail, an answering machine, a campus mailbox and a white board on my dorm room door.

They asked, "What if you miss an important call? Or, God forbid, what if there's an emergency?"

"Well," I would say, "I check my e-mail at least two times a day - usually more - and I call my answering machine on an average of once every four hours, more if I'm expecting a call." (Gotta love that remote service technology.) The point I always tried to make was that if it was truly important, someone would find me. And if they didn't, I am probably in seclusion for a reason and will resurface eventually.

All that changed this past summer. I decided my car would be of much more value here in Baltimore than it was sitting in the garage in San Diego. Unfortunately, just because two years have passed doesn't mean the rules have changed. So my parents investigated cell phone prices. That's when it hit them: Why pay for a cell phone and a calling card? Why not just get a phone with long distance included and take away any excuse I might have for not calling?

That was the beginning of the end for me.

I now have my parents, my boyfriend, my sorority sisters and random other people thinking that I want to be reached. To them, it's very logical. Why would I have a cell phone if I didn't want to be reached at all hours? Then, if I don't answer, they assume that something must be wrong. So I get five messages on two different answering machines (cell and land line) wondering if I'm okay. The extremely excessive will occasionally e-mail me as well. While I appreciate their concern, they need to chill out. The ones who understand know better than to freak. They call, don't reach me and move on with their lives.

For the rest of you, here's a news flash: I enjoy living in anonymity sometimes. One message will suffice. I live by myself - I promise no one will erase your message but me. If I feel like returning your call, I will. Until then, don't hold your breath. Have a drink and relax. It's probably what I'm doing. Everything will be okay. And yes, I do have your number. It's programmed into my cell phone. The phone book is the one handy feature I've found to the damn thing.