My car tried to tell me on the drive home, but I didn’t understand until well after supper: “No phone connected” meant I had left my cellphone at Western Michigan University.
Refusing to panic, I tried to be logical. There is no way anyone would want a three-models-old iPhone that only responded to my fingerprint. Besides, I had been in a small classroom with my peers, one of whom I share an office with on campus. It's likely one of them picked it up and sent me an email.
I logged into my WMU account, only to remember the university recently went to two-factor authorization. I needed my phone to complete the process. It was nearly finals week. I had deadlines to meet, papers to write, papers to grade, and no access to anything until I had my phone.
Son of a microchip!
Desperate to know where it was, I logged into my Apple ID, hoping “Find my Phone” would work despite my religious adherence to turning off my location. It took a minute, but a large dot appeared on WMU’s campus. I blew up the map, but the dot wasn’t over the building I expected. It wasn’t over any building. And it appeared to be...moving?
That’s when I panicked.
I know it was panic because my husband took one look at me and said, “I better drive you.”
We drove in silence. Disbelief consumed my thoughts. How in the name of all things reasonable did life come to this? The digital keys to my life are tethered to something I can forget on a desk. I’m not cut out for this. I forget things all the time. I’ve locked myself out of my car, my house, my office, my email – heck, half the time I can’t open my phone on the first try.
My husband pulled into the lot closest to the likely building, and I took off at a dead run. The classroom was locked. I have the building supervisor’s number, but it was on my phone. I was going to text my husband, but, again, no phone.
I ran back to the car, logged into “Find my Phone” on my husband’s phone, and started prowling campus, following that dot. It was in my office building...no, the grass in front of the building...no, the trash can by the grass in front of the building.
What a picture I must have made – a middle-aged woman in sweatpants, muttering to herself while poking around garbage cans with a cellphone in one hand.
We returned home without my phone.
Before going to bed, I tried a different platform to access my WMU email, and it worked. Sure enough, a coworker had found my phone and put it in my mailbox.
Relief.
My sleep was uncharacteristically sound, and I awoke refreshed. Halfway through breakfast, I realized why. I knew where my phone was, but I didn’t know what it was doing. There were no dings, bings, buzzes or rings. This was peace from another era, one where constant contact wasn’t expected or desired.
Still, I was glad to have my phone back in hand. The notifications had piled up, reheating my panic. People were waiting on me.
An hour into reading and responding, my panic was gone, but so was my peace.
Nicole can be reached at www.NicoleLVMullis.com.
"phone" - Google News
December 11, 2019 at 08:48PM
https://ift.tt/35ehLlB
Mullis: Son of a microchip! There’s no panic like phone panic - Battle Creek Enquirer
"phone" - Google News
https://ift.tt/2LvVM1w
Shoes Man Tutorial
Pos News Update
Meme Update
Korean Entertainment News
Japan News Update
Bagikan Berita Ini
0 Response to "Mullis: Son of a microchip! There’s no panic like phone panic - Battle Creek Enquirer"
Post a Comment