My Kryptonite

I’m not a phone guy. I like to talk but can’t stand these little time-wasting, microwave-driven, brain cancer-causing intrusions in my life. Much like the radio in my plane, cell phone usage should be limited to necessary communication. If you wanna talk to me, please use your voice. I look forward to it. I miss it. Apologies to my friends and family but why can’t you understand that I don’t “group chat?”

My phone “dinged” twenty six times in four minutes yesterday morning while I was working on a complex customer proposal. Thinking someone had an emergency, I glanced at my phone, only to see a family string of four word volleys and a picture of Sponge Bob with his eyes crossed and tongue hanging out. I hate Sponge Bob… the new millennium’s answer to Bugs Bunny.

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