Recognizing the Mule
My phone rang. I looked at the caller-ID. It said, “Fraudulent Call,” and showed an unfamiliar phone number.
I didn’t answer. But I got to wondering how the phone knew the call was bogus. Sometimes the caller-ID says, “SPAM-?” as if it is not sure. But this time it was certain. No ifs, ands, or buts. The call was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, fraudulent.
If the phone can identify the call as bogus, why can’t it terminate the call before it disturbs my peace? Why can’t it call the police, instead? Why can’t the counterfeit callers be identified and wiped off the face of the planet?
Okay, okay. I’m getting carried away. But you get my drift.
I own three phones, one of which is a land line. I never answer any of them. If you don’t have a secret code to get through to me, we will not talk on the phone. Ever. But I am paying for phone service. And I am being disturbed, on a regular basis, by automated fraudsters. Computerized con-artists. Robber-bots! Yes, I could turn off the ringer, but I’d like to be alerted if one of my children calls. Or the folks who take care of my mother. Or Eureka Market, when my case of muesli arrives.
And now I find myself second-guessing my recent commitment to a—gasp!—smart phone. I ordered one. It will bring me forward to the 21st century at the end of January. I seemed to be the only one on the planet still fiddling with a flip phone that needs to be charged twice a day. (That’s why I have two—I kept my late husband’s old phone, and I rotate them on the charging cord.) But now, with “Fraudulent Calls” activating the ringer waaaay more often than family or Eureka Market, I think maybe I’ve created a monster by joining the majority. (But part of my New Year’s resolution, to accept myself as I am, involves not second-guessing every purchase. Let it go… Let it go…).
I have been shying away from phones, and now I will own one that not only disturbs my peace, but can, theoretically, track my every move, and tell mass marketers about my secret desires. I guess I thought I was going to single-handedly rescue our democracy’s right to privacy by not engaging in trackable acts on the road. But apparently the robber-bots can find me in whatever trenches I hide, on whatever device I’m using—so why let them have all the advantages? At least now Siri will help me find my way when I am lost. And I will be able to locate a nearby wrecker service when I get a flat tire—and even Face Time my daughter Down Under to keep me company while I wait for the tow truck.
I guess my fear of smart phones could be equated with some folks’ disgust of covid vaccinations. Yes, yes, perhaps the government, or Bill Gates, or mass marketers are planting robber-bots in our brains. Infecting us with robber botulism. But even if that is true, the bulk of the evidence shows that people are surviving these intrusions. And are, perhaps, even better off because of them. And to resist these technologies is equivalent to riding a mule to Walmart whenever one runs out of milk and Wheaties.
It is prudent to be watchful of the direction our society is headed. But also to recognize that change is sometimes necessary, always inevitable, and often a good thing. Even if it seems a little scary at first.