The Story
As you probably know, I'm a commuter student. I take three or four buses to get to class every day depending on where and when I have to be there. This morning, as a part of my class credit, I had to participate in a lab study (the contents of which I'm apparently not allowed to discuss for a week) at 9am in South Campus. This means I have to get my butt out of bed to catch the 7:26 bus.
Well I woke up at 7:10 and panicked because I only had 10 minutes to get dressed and put make up on and pack my bag and get lunch and do all the necessary things for the day. I ended up leaving a couple minutes late, but the bus usually comes 2 minutes late anyways. I got on the bus alright and we went on our merry way. I was texting Tucker about a weird dream I had, and when we pulled into the bus station, my next bus was already sitting in its spot. What luck for me.
Problem 1: The bus started to back out.
Problem 2: I was on the other end of the transportation center.
Solution? RUN!
So me being the long-legged human that I am, I'm actually pretty fast when it comes to sprinting. So when I saw that someone else started running too, I figured if I could get there first and stop the bus, both of us could get on. Well I took off and made it a few yards when my phone (which I had forgotten to pocket in my panic about the bus) slipped out of my hand and hit the concrete. All I saw was the cracks all over the screen. That is all I cared about. BUT! That bus was still pulling out, so I picked it up and kept running.
When I got to the bus, the driver stopped and opened the doors. I tried to jump on, but then he closed them! And I got smushed in the doors! That sure was embarrassing. So I get on the bus and I finally have a chance to survey the damage to my phone. Sure enough, the whole screen was cracked. I almost cried, and I suddenly felt sick. The picture below is not my phone, but it's very similar to what mine looked like:
The only difference is that my entire screen looked like that. It was sickening.
Anyways, so I'm on the bus looking for a place that can fix my phone without me being without it for a week or two. (I'm a college student OK, I depend on this thing.) I found one, saved their number, and did some more research. Then I noticed the bus had stopped and was now pulling away and I'd forgotten to get off at my stop! So my frustration increased again and I got off at the next one, hoping to still be able to catch my third bus at a different stop. Readers, I watched that third bus drive past me and I thought I was going to have a break down right there. BUT! Alisauruses are strong and tough and, well... this one had to be to south campus by 9am so there was no time for crying. So I decided to walk to a stop that was a little further away just so I didn't have to stand around as much. Walking helps emotions you know?
Long story short, I got to my study on time, finished it in 10 minutes, and then decided that since I had an hour to kill I'd call the repair company. The guy on the phone was super nice and he told me about a discount they were running on repairs and he said if I was able to make it in before 5:30 they could have it done in an hour and a half and I'd go home with a new screen.
Again, long story short, I got out of my last class early, dad picked me up, and we went over to the repair shop. When I got there, the guy that had helped me on the phone wasn't there, but he had told the other employees I was coming in and about the discount he'd told me about. The guy that helped me out recommended that I get an Otter Box for my phone and my dad agreed, so once all the paperwork was filled out, he told me to give them a couple hours and my phone would be as good as new. We left at about 4:10.
Well, dad and I ran some errands and decided to go to Sears because last I knew, the sold Otter Boxes and with my discount, I could get one possibly cheaper. Well when we pulled into the parking lot, dad's cell phone rang. It was the repair place saying my phone was done and ready to be picked up. It was 5:02.
Dad said they must've really liked me, and I told him it pays to be nice to retailers they will do nice things for you. (Remember that, kiddies)
So at the end of my very long story, my phone now looks like your typical white iPhone 6 with a "glacier" Otter Box case. (Did I mention he discounted the case too?) And I am very relieved, very tired, and very grateful to everyone who helped me out today.
The Thought
So while I was sitting in Wilson Hall doing homework and eating lunch, I started feeling sick about my phone again and I suddenly had an objective moment. Why was I feeling sick? Why was I so stressed out? Was it my OCD about having a perfect screen? Was I really that attached to my phone? I'd handled contacting the repair locations without too much anxiety, and while I'd taken out most of my stress on Tucker, I felt like I'd gotten it under control. So why was I feeling the way I was?
I think the most important thing I asked myself was "how would I feel if I'd seen a person that was broken"? And the answer I came up with was this: Your emotional reaction to something breaking or someone getting hurt is relative to how much you value it/them. So if I saw a random guy get punched or stabbed, it wouldn't make me sick to my stomach because I don't value that person as much as I do my sister or my dad or my boyfriend. It's not that I'm desensitized, because if I was able I would definitely try to help them by calling an ambulance or whatever. And I'm sure that I would wonder if they were OK in the end. But that scene wouldn't elicit the same response as me shattering my phone because 1) I don't care about that person on an intimate level and 2) it's not staring me in the face all day.
So this led to another thought that is somewhat related. If I care about and value my phone so much, am I really addicted to it? The hour I was without it I kept thinking it was in my pocket. Even in that one hour I realized that I am constantly on my phone. I don't know if it's the hours I spend on a bus or the hours I spend alone on campus, but I have gotten to the point where I have to have it in my hand or at least have my earbuds in my ears or else I'm miserable. And that thought was as horrifying to me as the sight of my shattered screen.
So how am I going to combat this now that I've realized it? I don't really know. I guess it will have to be a journey, and in this digital age, it'll be hard. Maybe it's as simple as putting my phone in my pocket and enjoying the sounds of nature and people watching while I'm on campus. Maybe it's not resorting to Facebook and Twitter for bus entertainment. I don't know. It's a process.
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