In the old days, people went to the U.K. to lose their virginity; nowadays they go to lose their cell phones. Well, that wasn’t my intention, but that’s how things turned out. One moment I was walking down Portobello Road, not a care in the world, and the next I realised that something essential had gone missing.
And just like that I was thrust into the world of organised crime, identity theft, artificial (and real) intelligence, memory loss (“when did I last use that phone?”) and profound self-doubt and self-loathing. It could happen to anyone, you tell yourself, but it’s like the five stages of grief overlapping. I went straight from denial to acceptance, pausing only briefly for anger in order to blame those around me.
“This is the revenge of the cell phone,” a friend assured me later, “for all the terrible things you have written about it.” Perhaps he is right. I have often made fun of man’s best inanimate friend, once going so far as to suggest that cell phones weren’t getting ready to take over the world, the joke being they already have.
Portobello Road styles itself as the world’s largest antiques market, and it is possible that my cell phone qualified as an antique — I bought it long ago, perhaps as much as six months ago. Antique dealers probably have agents who lead them to the good stuff — and if that good stuff is nestling in my pocket, it doesn’t deter them. Portobello gets its name from the town of the same name in Panama, captured by the British from Spain in the 18th century. So capturing other people’s stuff is probably a tradition here.
In Othello, Shakespeare laid it out for all cell phone owners: “Who steals my purse steals trash … but he that filches from me my good name robs me of that which not enriches him, and makes me poor indeed.” He meant “cell phone” when he wrote “good name”, and Shakespeare scholars have argued for centuries that there should be no “not” before “enriches”, because, of course the cell phone enriches the one who steals it. At the very least he can get a good price for it. If he is lucky, he will get bank passwords and details of American Presidents meeting Russian friends. And have access to all those charming online jokes from family members.
What do you do when someone steals your cell phone? I did the following: Cursed and kicked a lamp post, tried to remember the type and make of the phone (unsuccessfully), screamed at a cab driver, and bought myself an ice cream (chocolate, in case you are wondering). If you lose a cell phone, you might have another set of activities to complete. Such things vary, depending on the individual’s temperament and weight.
Venus Williams once said that you can never be complacent because a loss may be around the corner. She was talking about tennis, but it applies equally to cell phones too.