Hi, my name is Tom and I am addicted to my blackberry,
I first began using the blackberry, after a colleague shared theirs with me on a business trip. At first, it didn’t seem like it was that big of a deal. I had my laptop with me, and could always check emails in the hotel in the morning and afternoon.
Yet, she seemed so happy with her blackberry, and as I drove the rental car she would periodically tell me things like “Oh, I see Steve has bought donuts for the office again…” and “John is really upset about the late shipments to XYZ”. I began to think there were things going on that I was missing. Important things. Like donuts.
Then, when we were in New Jersey and I couldn’t get my laptop to connect to the hotel wireless, I asked to borrow her blackberry. That’s how it started.
(It’s OK Tom, go on…we’re all friends here)
When we got back from the trip I called IT and ordered my first blackberry. Sure, I had heard horror stories, and warnings from others to “Don’t do it. You’ll never be able to put it down.” But I was different. I had willpower. I could control myself. I would just use it in emergencies, and for the convenience when I traveled.
Soon though, I found myself checking it nightly before going to bed. Before long, I was checking it before dinner, on Saturday mornings, whenever I was passing through the kitchen and saw it lying there. When my wife started complaining, I tried to hide it. I’d sneak it into the bathroom with me so that no one could see me using it.
That was 3 years ago. Since then my blackberry has become an integral part of my life. When the trackball broke last fall, I went through two excruciating days, waiting to get a new phone. That’s when I began to realize I had a problem.
(Go on, we’re all addicts here, we understand.)
Two nights ago, my wife confronted me. I guess you would call it an intervention. She challenged me to put the phone down as soon as I got home, and not look at it until I left for work the following morning. I tried to laugh it off, but she insisted. I told her, I was in control of myself, I could stop anytime I wanted. But after one hour, I started getting shaky. My palms were sweating, and I just knew that someone, somewhere was writing something that I had to read that very minute. Something like “Donuts are on the counter by the mail station”
I couldn’t deny it any longer. I was a blackberry addict. (breaks down into tears, and sobbing)
(It’s OK Tom, let it out. We’ve all been there. (passes kleenex box)
sniff… sniff… finally last night, I decided I had to do something about it. When I got home from work, I gave her the blackberry. I’ve now been disconnected for 12 hours. My skin is crawling, my mouth is dry, and I want nothing more than to click that sweet trackball, and open up my email. But I just can’t. Not for me, but for her. For the kids.
(we’re here for you Tom. You are among friends now.)
My name is Tom, and I’m a blackberry addict.