So long, farewell

On the forthcoming breakup with my smartphone

I’ve known for a while this was coming, but things become real when you put a date on them. January 2025, I’m getting rid of my smartphone. Hopefully, for good. I’m a little terrified, but there’s excitement sprinkled in there, too.

Beginning of next year, I’ll receive my pre-ordered Light Phone (not sponsored), which will take the place of my current pocket computer. This isn’t a true dumb phone, which would only have talk and text. It’s got a few apps—simple navigation, MP3 player, calculator, calendar, and camera—but there’s no internet access. Thank God.

My plan is to use the next six months to adapt to a new way of life, or rather revert. I’m old enough to remember navigating early adulthood without a smartphone (I consider this a superpower). 

When I revealed this intention to a friend, he asked me why I wanted to go through with it. I realized I’d been acting as if the desire was self-explanatory, but upon first examination, it’s anything but.

The world is built to be accessed by smart technology. Even if you’re not on social media, it’s easy to build your life around being able to use Google Maps, Uber, Door Dash, Venmo, and any number of messaging apps that make you available to your employer 24/7. You start to believe you can’t live or be part of society without them.

I have a problem with that.

I can appreciate efficient tools, but becoming dependent on one tool for everything gives me that frog-in-a-frying-pan feeling.

I want to know I can live my life without it. Trouble is, it’s been a long time since I’ve had to. I’m rusty. And, as I said before, I’m a little scared.

So, I weighed my use of each app until I was left with my four most important. Your list may be different. These play a significant role in my life, so I’ve got to have a plan that allows me to manage when they’re gone.

Maps.

Prep is key. I plan to carry a pocket notebook filled with important addresses and simple directions.

I’m currently refraining from using Google Maps while driving around my hometown, and I was surprised at how much I remembered on my own.

For longer trips, I can print or write out directions.

In case of emergency, a portable GPS will probably be purchased and kept on hand.

Paper maps are even an option. My husband and I made a mushroom hunting trip to middle-of-nowhere Oregon in May, and no one in our group had phone service. The paper map I grabbed at a nearby rest stop was nice to have.

Virtual tickets/QR codes.

Most airlines, events and performances have a printed ticket option, whether done from home or at the location. Will-call is still available at some live theaters, allowing me to pick up my tickets at guest services.

As for QR codes, I don’t see any way around them, except to ask for a physical copy of the menu or information. I’ve accepted that there are things I won’t have access to. This is a different kind of life I’m trying to live.

Rideshare.

With the widespread use of apps like Lyft and Uber, I was worried taxis had disappeared. Not so.

Cabs are everywhere, especially in big cities and can be called and scheduled in advance.

And even without calling, it’s easy to find them in busy locations. On a recent trip to San Francisco, the urge to go sightseeing was cut short when my app refused to cooperate. As I stood in front of my hotel, fighting with my phone, a cab pulled up and dropped off a fare. I jumped in, told the guy to take me to the Legion of Honor Museum (breathtaking collection of Rodin sculptures, I highly recommend), and he obliged. I paid him with a credit card, and everyone was happy.

Which brings me to my last entry, Mobile Payment Apps.

Ninety-nine percent of the time, old school is fine here. Credit/debit cards, cash. I even keep checks—take a breath—yes, checks in case of emergencies. No, I’m not 94 years old. Thank you for asking.

Most other apps can be replaced by going to any company’s website or by calling. Between a dumb phone and a computer, you can still access almost anything.

I’ve been as honest as possible with myself about the difficulties of making this change, but for me the pros of the transition still far outweigh the cons. Less blue light, no ads, no scrolling in bed, no email notifications staring up at me.

I’ll be forced to—or rather free to—be aware of my surroundings, talk to other humans, and study the cities I plan to visit. Much less mindlessness and taking things for granted. Less helplessness and more self-reliance.

Reader, I’d love to hear from you on this. Have you switched to a dumb phone? Would you? What would be the hardest feature for you to replace? Am I a luddite zealot?

Comment and discuss. All opinions welcome.