I do not want to dwell on the circumstances, except to say that my phone was stolen and that London is becoming a reeking cesspool of criminality. Perhaps, also, that anyone caught cycling a Lime Bike without a clean criminal record should have the book thrown at them.
The result of all this has been a lot of ugly self pity to the tune of ‘why me?’
The worst part was that at the time of snatching, my phone was unlocked, and therefore wide open for fraudulent activity. I disabled all online banking in time, but that didn’t stop the cretin from ordering himself a couple of Ubers and very nearly a PS5. In a brainwave that was pure Conan Doyle, I looked at the addresses these were ordered to, and they were all to the same flat – a clue.
I took this information to the police station to be added to my police report. I was duly informed this piece of evidence was not substantial enough to warrant an officers going to the address to ask questions, let alone arresting anyone. To me, this seemed like finding a murder weapon with fingerprints on at the scene of the crime, but discounting it because it wasn’t found in the murderer’s hand. Alas, what do I know?
The result of all this has been a lot of ugly self pity to the tune of ‘why me?’ Behind the eyes of each consoling friend, I saw mocking insults to my manhood. I had thought muggings happen to idiots lacking spatial awareness, not to me. This kind of mental torment, which has resulted in a distrust of anything with a pulse, was just the beginning.
Though I was born in the 20th century, I am very much a product of the 21st. I grew up with CDs and flip phones, but Apple has single-handedly shaped how I and everyone my age navigates life. We have TikTok and Instagram, and no one is really happy or able to concentrate on anything as a result; but these are just the overt symptoms of being a Gen Zer. I can now see the wider effects are far worse.
Infuriatingly, every utility is now run on an app – for instance, paying rent. My online banking is locked, and I cannot prove I am me by receiving a code via text (no phone). As a result, I have to queue 45 minutes to see the single cashier serving 20 other people at NatWest. While attempting to buy a train ticket at the station, or a film ticket at the cinema, I realised that companies are no longer set up for purchasing goods the old-fashioned way. If you want a service other than via an app transaction, you’re in for an infuriating wait.
Phones at work are now not to be hidden away but are actively encouraged. As anyone who runs a restaurant or cafe knows, you have to have an active social media account to be counted. This means churning out lots of silly little videos and photos. Fortunately, as a pizza maker, my working life isn’t particularly tech dependent when you strip all the social media faff away. I’ve quite enjoyed the break.
Despite growing up with every street on earth on a map available in my pocket, I have always prided myself on being able to get around without them. Even so, London is a massive place, and I’m not a cabbie. My main mode of transport, cycling, has therefore been off the cards, for fear of getting lost. This leaves buses and tubes. As the latter will generally leave you a 10-minute walk from your destination, and still unable to navigate, I have gone with buses as the safest option.
Here is my new routine when I decide to leave the house: I look up the bus route on my laptop, write down on a scrap of paper the buses I need to take and the stops where I can get them from. I double-check the directions for the three-minute walk at the other end and write these down too. Finally, I inform whoever I’m meeting that I should be with them in no less than 90 minutes. In the 21st century, ridiculous.
Gone are my days of laissez-faire plan making. I can no longer roll out of the house at approximately the right time, look up the directions on the way and text garbled apologies that I will be 10 minutes late. Sadly, my friends still can. I now have to tell them I don’t have a phone, so will be there five minutes early with my smudged directions and no music or podcasts or endless streams of 15-second videos. As I wait, boredom gives way to anxiety, which gives way to fury, which is how I have begun every social encounter over the past two weeks.
The question of knowing what to do with yourself is perhaps the gravest. I am used to my brain being occupied by something external, and so just sitting with thoughts can be unsettling. People-watching while on these journeys has confirmed this is not just me: fellow passengers, people walking along pavements outside, parents and children all have a phone in front of them to provide a steady hum of information. Is it any great wonder that the attention span of a young person attempting to achieve something that requires original thought is reduced to nil?
My generation lack the skills or knowledge to navigate the world-that-was and are dependent on smartphones to navigate every facet of the world-that-is. Our lives are easier and faster, but when technology is removed, I don’t think any of us would be able to survive. Not only does this make us lazy, tardy, dim-witted drones in the eyes of the generations before us, but we also are at the point of losing touch completely with the half of the world that doesn’t have access to smartphones.
Some people would conclude that we must boycott Apple and Samsung, cast our phones into deep pits and go to live among the tree-people. I, for one, can’t wait to get my phone back so I don’t have to think about any of this any more.
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