The Cost of Convenience

Convenience often comes at a price, and the consumer decides if they are willing to pay for the luxury.  Prepared foods typically cost more than buying the ingredients separately.  Convenience has a universal appeal because it reduces extra work and saves time.  For all the allure of convenience, however, there can be a downside.  The cost for convenience is not always paid in money but with countless distractions, intrusions, oppression, and even bondage.

For almost two weeks I was without a mobile phone.  A month ago the screen developed a fault which daily increased to the point of the screen being completely fuzzy.  For days it was like trying to view emails and sites through the bars of a virtual prison.  Since the phone was under warranty, it was shipped off to the assessment centre and I was told it would be 5 to 10 business days until the job would be complete.  For the job to be done the phone would be wiped, and I drove home phoneless.

I started thinking:  how should I handle navigation?  I would have to print out directions again.  How will I check email account?  I would need to log into each account individually at my computer.  How inconvenient life suddenly became when I could no longer check all my email accounts with the tap of a screen.  At the prospect of being weeks without a phone, I was more annoyed with the inconvenience of it all than anxious.  But an interesting thing happened:  as much as I missed the convenience of a phone, I did not miss the burden of having it and carrying it around.  I began to realise how many times a day I would check the phone and how at any time--in the middle of studying, conversing, driving or eating--a text or notification would come through.

Because of my forced phone fast I found I was reading more books.  I was spending far less time online, only checking my emails once or twice a day.  Days passed without checking messages on Facebook.  Whilst I appreciate the convenience of a phone, I found it was more apt to waste my time than save it; it was likely to command my attention as a slave rather than serve me.  When I went to pick up my phone yesterday it was a perfect illustration of how I had been feeling.  Those without a phone are more observant of how many people have and use them all the time.  As I stood at the door of the shop waiting for it to open, for 15 minutes I watched people walk by.  Approximately 50% were actively scrolling with heads down, 25% were talking, 20% had earbuds in, and one or two people did not have a phone in their hand.  As I watched a woman walking with her son's hand in hers, she smiled as she saw something on the screen held in her other hand.  She held her son's hand but her other hand was being held by something even more interesting at that moment.  She gripped her phone, but the phone held her.  Convenience has a cost.

Now don't get me wrong:  I am not anti-technology or think the correct course of action is to ditch our phones.  I am glad to keep mine, thank you.  But I do think it is wise to honestly consider how and how much we use them.  When we are locked into our phones we don't realise how much life we are missing out on, how distracted we are.  Being without a phone showed me I do not need it to lead a fulfilling, productive life.  It opened my eyes to how I allowed my phone to unnecessarily intrude upon my life and become more a burden than a blessing.  Phones are the Swiss Army knife of technology with countless features and useful apps, a practical tool in our digital age.  But as useful as mobiles phones are because of our human condition they can be wielded as weapons which wound us and damage relationships with others too.  That's far too high a price for convenience.