Weapon of Choice? Mobile!

Perhaps the title should be "Killed by Mobile"...

[Okay, general disclaimer for this post: I’m going to swear a lot, so pardon my French, or hop to another page]

Let's start with a confession: I don't have a mobile.

Most of the people I'd like to chat with are in other countries or on other continents, which means that I can't afford the kind of package that’d allow me to reach them on a mobile (all the more useless since my landline does have a package that allows me to call them at no extra cost), and if I had a mobile, it’d mean that my relatives could reach me 24/7, which is something I cannot allow to happen.

Besides, there’s perhaps one time a year when I’m stuck in a traffic jam and I’d need to call the person I’m meeting to say that I’ll be late, but that’s so rare that it doesn’t justify the purchase.

So, I don’t have a mobile, but I get to be bugged by the ones around me who do have one.

At the supermarket, I don’t care if some twat (male or female – both do it) is chatting on the phone about what to buy, the weather, the kids, or if they gossip about sordid stuff.

Don’t care.

I can tune them out.

But when some twat is queuing in front of me and is still chatting on the phone as s/he reaches the checkout counter, I want to scream: ‘Use both hands to empty your basket, you moron!’

Since I was too well educated (no kidding, just bump into me, and I’ll be the one apologizing, if that’s not conditioning I don’t know what is!), I say nothing. I don’t even growl or glare, but my brain’s usually yelling strings of insults that’d make a sailor blush like a virgin on her wedding night.

On the bus (or tube, or train), sometimes we all can follow chats about things that we simply shouldn’t be hearing.

Just today, there was a bloke on my bus who shared the medical condition of his daughter with the rear section of the bus. No fun, but that won’t beat the time when a gal quit a job on the bus after a heated talk with her, by then, former boss; she must have thought she was in her office, but she was in a public space!

At work, one day, I’m going to get in trouble because I work with a few people who just can’t turn the bloody thing off, and then right in the fucking middle of a meeting (that they called because they need to hear their own voices about some pseudo-important topic), they take a call and leave the room – or not!

If you look at them as if to ask ‘Where you raised by wolves?’ they glare at you because they just don’t understand how ill-mannered that is.

I’ve even got a friend who can’t refrain from checking her voicemail and e-mails as we’re supposed to have a chat!

I understand that the world is changing.

I understand that a mobile can be really useful (to call for help, to stay connected, to book something on the internet while stuck in a traffic jam, etc…), but it should come with some etiquette and proper education.

When I see someone unable to put the device down, I want to find the address of a rehab centre or something. If you’re in a meeting, you turn the mobile off, except if you’re expecting the Queen, herself, to call, and even then, you have the courtesy to warn the people with you that you might have to take an important call. If you’re getting an OBE, it’s okay, but if the dry cleaner calls to tell you that your tie’s ruined for good, it can bloody go to voicemail!

Of course it’s a useful tool, but it’s not the boss of you. It’s a tiny box with chips; that’s all.

What the two ladies I overheard on the bus this afternoon said sums it up quite nicely. They were commenting on the loud bloke and came to the conclusion that people with a bad education and somewhat selfish were loud and uncaring, while the ones who hadn’t been raised in a barn on a desert island knew how to behave in society.

These examples are annoying and drive me up the wall, but that’s all, it’s just annoying.

Yet, mobile addiction can be dangerous.

After work, I took my usual bus, got down at my usual stop and walked up my street to reach my building.

Thank Merlin for winter because, thanks to the night, I saw the lights of the car that was approaching suspiciously slowly. That particular street is rather quiet, but the way it’s numbered sometimes puzzles people, and I thought I was dealing with someone looking for his/her way.

I stopped on the zebra crossing, protected by a parked car, and the moving car moved closer, but very, very slowly. It was so incredibly slow that I leant to check if the driver was looking for a spot to park, but no…

No, it turned out that that wanker was looking at, you guess what… his mobile. Eyes firmly on the tiny screen, not on the road, not on me. No, looking at the almighty mobile. The important mobile.

When he reached the end of the street, he looked ahead (at fucking last), but that’s because he was about to drive into a bigger street. He finally looked at me, and by then I must have looked quite flabbergasted by his nerve and utter stupidity (I feel like turning “moronitude” into a word), and he realized that I was waiting for him to see me and allow me to cross the street, as in, you know, the Highway Code (‘Thou shalt not turn the poor pedestrian into marmalade’, or something).

He mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ and turned onto the bigger street, and that was it.

I crossed the street in one piece and headed home, and it’s only there that I realized that I was so shocked and surprised that I forgot to note his registration plate down. Drat!

If that had taken place in broad daylight, I might have been distracted by something.

If I’d been more tired than I am, I might have ended up under that SUV (who needs that kind of car in town, by the way?!!).

I could have been injured or killed because some prig wanted to check something on his mobile.  Swell.

I guess my conclusion is going to be, yes, by all means use your shiny mobiles as much as you want, but you’re living in society, you’re a part of it, and a piece of technology doesn’t make you King or Queen.

Respect is one thing; as in, you’re not bloody alone on Earth, keep that in mind, you selfish twat.

As well, if you’re walking or driving, the phone is turned off. Clear? If you break your leg or your nose or kill yourself, it’s your problem, but don’t drag me into your plonkerishness.

If you break one of my limbs, I can always go see you with my faithful rolling pin later, but if you kill me… not much to do then. Oh, I’m sure you’d feel bad… for five minutes or so, but today we can see that stupidity kills.

So, use your phone to locate the closest pub, but don’t behave like an animal and use your brain… and don’t be selfish; you’re not on a desert island.