I have a problem with losing my phone

Photo by Nidhi Mathihalli

A very true conversation I have with my mother on a semi-daily basis.

I lose my phone a lot. It’s an actual problem. But I can’t seem to stop losing it. Every time I tell myself to pay attention to my phone, I just can’t. As I write this, I don’t even know where my phone is right now.

The first time I really lost my phone was the first month of 6th grade. It was the first time I had gotten a phone, and I was super excited. Little did I know, I was also extremely — extremely — careless.

After finishing my core class, I accidentally left my phone behind. With no real emotional connection to my phone (yet), I carried on throughout the rest of the day and even went home that afternoon, carefree.

It was only when I got home and my father asked me if I had seen the text he had sent regarding how I would get “ immense luck” if I sent the text to 10 other people (aka, chainmail) that I realized my phone was nowhere to be seen. I went through everything I did but was still unable to remember where I left it. However, Apple’s amazing technology was able to find my iPhone in Ms. Dovala’s core classroom. After being scolded by my parents for my “carelessness,” I got a good-night’s sleep, knowing that my phone was safe and sound.

This was just the beginning. About a month later, I went to Kevin Moran Park with a friend. There, I forgot my phone. Again. That night, before going to bed, I searched for my phone everywhere: the car, dining table, sofa and my dog’s corner where she keeps valuables she finds around the house and guards them with her life. It was nowhere to be found. 

So at exactly 11 p.m., my mom drove me to the park and both of us checked again and again for my phone. I checked trees, under branches, the playground and more. Just as we were about to give up, we sat down on a bench and lo-and-behold: There was a phone that looked exactly like mine with a Post-It attached to it saying, “To whoever lost their phone, here it is.”

Yet again, fate intervened and I was saved. But my luck wouldn’t last forever.

For the entirety of 6th and 7th grade, I was enrolled in middle school track and field, a consequence of my father saying that I should “be more active” under the incorrect impression that walking from my desk to the refrigerator to get food wasn’t enough physical activity for a day. It wasn’t my fault — my laziness prevented me from doing anything more than what was required to keep me alive.

So, I took part in the least-intensive activities as part of the sport. When participating in one meet, I left my phone unguarded for around 30 minutes. Sadly, this time, it was gone forever. I searched for hours. I searched the stands, my backpack, others’ backpacks and the car, but I was unable to find my phone.

By this point, I was pretty attached to my phone, so when my parents told me that I would not be getting a new one, I was quite sad, but at the same time, I understood that it was a consequence of my carelessness.

Finally, in 8th grade, I got a new phone after my parents upgraded their phones, giving my brother and me their old ones. Perhaps surprisingly given my history, I have never lost my phone again.

That being said, I should probably go look for my phone now.