Phones can provide false sense of security
AMC Theaters, arrest me. I’m guilty. Last year, I spoiled a movie by adding my own soundtrack. And it was just terrible.
To set the scene, I was sitting by myself in the second to last row at a showing of Argo. The lights had long gone down and we were nearing the end of the film, which was a chase scene through the streets of Tehran.
In my pocket, I felt the unnerving succession of vibrations that has come to be associated with a phone call. The vibrations finally stopped, but it was at that very moment that I wished they would continue. Because after my phone registered the missed call, it began playing Pandora, which I had left open.
I’ll pause here for a moment to give some relevant background. My phone has a glitch. When I miss a phone call, it begins playing music. Usually, I combat this by turning my speaker volume to the lowest setting before I go, well, just about anywhere. But I forgot on that day, which was especially unfortunate because my Pandora had been set to my Zac Brown Band station (don’t ask). And so, the song that began reverberating throughout the theater was a Rascal Flatts song — don’t ask me which one since the discography of that particular band is, thankfully, something I know very little about.
At that particular moment, I felt as if the whole audience was staring at me. It did make a great story when the same phone glitch struck a few weeks later during a small class discussion. At the time, though, it was embarrassing enough that I stayed past the entire credits to make sure as few people as possible caught a glimpse of the perpetrator — yours truly.
Last week, I wrote about how we use our cell phones, even going so far as to cite a survey showing 9 percent of Americans said they use their mobile device during sex, and twelve percent saying they’ve used the devices in the shower. As I gave the issue a bit more thought, I realized that was only telling half the story.
We don’t just use cell phones. Our cell phones can be used without us knowing.
They can be used to add your own soundtrack (or really, to be fair, I suppose it was actually Rascal Flatts’ soundtrack).
Cell phones can be used to creepily keep tabs on your friends using the “Find Your Friends” app. This app, if downloaded on your phone, allows friends with the app to see where you are and vice versa. I believe another term for that is stalking. Awkwardly enough, though not nearly as awkward as the Argo incident, I possessed this application for a little while during my freshman year. After my friend downloaded it for me, I was telling him a story in which I mentioned that I was near his house. His response: “I know.”
Of course, Siri comes to mind as someone who uses my phone without my permission. As a disclaimer, Siri and I are on a break, so I don’t have too many nice things to say about her (in case you were curious, she told me she didn’t know what I was talking about but could search for it on the Internet one too many times).
Anyway, I find that Siri often opens up in my phone without my realizing and starts doing random tasks or, mostly, just searching phrases on the Internet. Oh, if I had a quarter (even a dime) for the number of times I have had Siri begin blathering to me without my asking.
Not only can cell phones be used without us, they can also be used against us. Via Wi-Fi, technology exists for retail stores to track a customer’s movement through its store. They can see what type of item a shopper is looking at and for how long.
Admittedly, many times my cell phone is working positively for me when it’s engaging in activities that I’m blissfully unaware of. Recently, I began using my calendar to, you know, actually write down times when I was busy. And it’s pretty amazing how quickly my calendar syncs from phone to computer.
That embarrassingly funny ringtone that spontaneously erupts in a quiet classroom can be amusing from time to time. Sometimes our cell phone sounds can even advance the plot of a story — looking at you, “Breaking Bad” series finale. But most of the time, especially when you’re the victim, you just want to say Argo you-know-what yourself.
Daniel Rothberg is a junior majoring in political science. His column “21st Century Fears” runs Thursdays.