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 Bye-Bye, BlackBerry
Back
in June, there was a story that seemed to appear everywhere about the
general manager of the Sheraton Chicago, Rick Ueno, who decided his
addiction to his BlackBerry was unhealthy. So he quit — cold turkey.
Then he decided that everyone should be like him, so he started a
BlackBerry Check-In program at his hotel. When you check in, you can
hand over your BlackBerry, which is then locked in a safe until it’s
time for you to check out.
The day the story came out, I
received countless e-mail messages from “well-meaning” friends and
family who thought I absolutely needed to do that.
My first thought was, I don’t need this; I’m not addicted.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it might be fun to
prove those naysayers wrong. Of course I could check in my BlackBerry
and live to tell about it.
When I mentioned that I was
considering it, coworkers started creating all sorts of rules. It
couldn’t be over a weekend, because everyone knows that weekend e-mails
aren’t as important. And it had to be for more than one day, because
anyone can do anything for a day. And I couldn’t tell people when I was
doing it, because if people knew what I was doing, they wouldn’t e-mail
me.
The more I heard, the more nervous I got. So I e-mailed Rick
Ueno. I laughed when my first attempt to reach him resulted in an “out
of office” reply that said, “Since I am no longer addicted to my
BlackBerry, I will have limited access to my e-mail.” (Perhaps if you
repeat it often enough, it becomes true?) And, in fact, it took him 17
hours to reply to me (he was very proud of that).
With Rick’s
promise to “be there to coach and support” me, I booked a room and made
plans to get together with Molly Conway, our central advertising
manager, while I was in town.
Upon check-in, I said goodbye to
my favorite friend while the front-desk staff and Rick did their best
to encourage me. Then I headed to the coffee bar while my room was
readied.
As I looked around me, I realized just what a need
there is for this program, and wondered why I was the only one
seemingly participating. Everyone was brandishing their PDA with a sense of entitlement. I tried not to be bitter. Or to hyperventilate.
The rest of the day went better than I expected. But in a pinch, I had access to e-mail through my laptop.
The
next day, though, I was away from my laptop all day. While Molly and I
were at a meeting (read: baseball game), once again, everyone around us
was on their PDA. But, strangely, by then I was in a very peaceful
state, and I really didn’t care what I was missing out on. Nor did I
wonder.
Over dinner that night, Rick regaled us with how much
better his life is post-BlackBerry. He did answer his cell phone twice,
which I told him was just as bad, but he insisted it was only because
it was his family calling.
I wasn’t convinced that giving up a
BlackBerry was going to change my life, but I was sort of enjoying not
having it around. It was a nice — albeit strange — feeling.
Checkout
the next morning was surprisingly the hardest. I was giddy about being
back in touch. But in the cab on the way to the airport, I scrolled
through all of the messages that I had missed over the past 48 hours.
Would you believe that there was nothing there that was the least bit
important and very little that was even interesting?
So this is what I clamor for all day, I thought to myself. Perhaps Rick is right. It’s a want, not a need.
Now,
months later, I can’t say I’ve gone the route of the BlackBerryless,
but I have to admit that I don’t have that gnawing anxiety anymore. If
I want to know what’s going on or want to send a message, I use it.
Otherwise, I don’t think about it a lot.
Interestingly enough,
it’s my friends, the very ones who suggested I take up the challenge,
who are the most disappointed in the change. It seems they liked me
more when they had access to me 24-7. Perhaps there’s something to that
“be careful what you wish for” saying.
SHERRI GULCZYNSKI BURNS
Editor
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