When the iPhone came out in 2005, I wasn’t among the first in line but I did buy one. Two weeks later, surprised that my new device was doing exactly what it was designed to do—addicting me—I replaced it with a no-frills Nokia, which I used for the next thirteen years. On January 15, 2018, I put my Nokia in a drawer forever.
Why? Because I’m haunted by the image of myself looking at my phone to the exclusion of everything else around me. Mostly I remember resenting that a cartoonish cube of metal and glass had taken control of my life. The “endless and proper work” of paying attention is an essential part of the work I do. Why would I use something that compromised my ability to be great at my job?
A year after deep-sixing my phone, the benefits in my life have been huge. They’re also ongoing. Here are a few observations.
Creativity. Our phones and our brains are enmeshed—they’ve become indistinguishable in many ways. Just as we’re unwilling to turn off our phones, we’re no longer giving our brains a chance to reboot, or refresh. As a result, we pay less and less attention to our intuition, our senses, our memories, our experiences—the pattern recognition that our species has relied on for centuries. We also risk losing the capacity for boredom. Boredom may seem, well, boring, but it’s also the incubator for creativity and innovation.
Without a phone, and not that I’m keeping score, my productivity has—I’m guessing—doubled in the past year. I see the world clearly (at least I think I do), and as more and more people duck inside the tent-flaps of their own cell phone addiction, I’d go so far to say that not having a phone has become a competitive advantage.
Promptness. Even when I had my Nokia, I often ran late, but these days I’m pretty much always on time. Why? Because I can no longer call or text clients or friends and tell them I’m stuck in traffic. In my experience, cell phones have contributed to a worldwide delinquency around time, oddly enough. And yes, without a phone I’ve gotten lost, but when I do, I ask around and people set me straight.
Likability: At first my colleagues weren’t exactly overjoyed when I told them I was retiring my Nokia. Today, they love it. They tell me I’m nicer, more relaxed and much more agreeable to be around. In the past, if I had a spare half hour, I would use it to fire off numerous emails, most of them confirming stuff my staff already knew. Today, whatever free time I have I use to reflect and prepare. My real-life friendships have also become deeper, richer—better.
But what if there’s an emergency? people ask. Well, the good news is that everyone else has a phone! Only once have I ever regretted not having one. During a layover in the Vancouver airport, a customs officer told me I needed a special $7. 00 Canadian visa which, she added, I could download and fill out on my phone. When I told her I didn’t have a phone, she seemed incredulous (and she also refused to lend me hers). I ran to the waiting area, opened my PC, went to the website, applied for the visa, paid the fee—and got a confirmation email with a minute to go before my flight left. Sometimes we forget a Mac or PC does almost everything a smart phone can do.
When I tell people about my one-year-anniversary, nine out of ten have the same response: I’m so envious! I wish I could do that! But—they add quickly—they can’t. They have kids, a crazy job, a hectic life. Well, no offense, but despite not having children, my job and life are pretty crazy and hectic too. As a branding and organizational consultant, I work with the biggest companies in the world, and am on a plane 300 days a year. It’s clear that if children weren’t offered up as an excuse, there would be others: My music is on my phone. So are my contacts and my photos and, uh, my meditation timer. Like the flimsy justification alcoholics use to explain why they drink, most cell phone users don’t want to admit they won’t give up their devices because they’re addicted to them.
But addiction is contagious. You as a leader set the standard for how to use phones. If you’re on it all the time, during breaks, in meetings or while talking with colleagues you set a precedent – you can be sure that the rest of the organization will follow.
Today, all across the world, we use our cell phones as armor. A shield. A light saber. A one-handed defense against our own fear, anxiety, aloneness, self-consciousness, stillness, sadness, insignificance. I get it. Still, when I’m walking along the street and someone glued to his or her phone crashes into me, followed by a quick, rueful “Sorry…” I can’t help feeling an irrational rage. “Don’t you understand what you’re doing?” I want to say. Is this really how you want to spend your one wild and precious life?
