5 reasons to be jealous of my flip-phone

Call me touchy, but I’m sick of everyone assuming I own a Smartphone. The latest issue of Sunset magazine boasts an enticing picture of a cocoa soufflé. “Want the recipe?” it taunts. “Scan this barcode into your phone.” As a lover of chocolate and baking alike, I resent the discrimination, merely because I still own a flip-phone.

Similarly, my college linguistics professor once suggested that we periodically weigh in on lecture topics using Twitter’s mobile app. “Since all of you are on your iPhones anyway, we can tweet to bolster class discussion!” Not that long ago, teachers were threatening to confiscate our phones—now they’re compulsory for participation points?

Of course, there are times when I wish I had a Smartphone: When circling through the Tenderloin late at night without a map, or for quick access to Yelp when I’m eyeing the seedy Thai restaurant on the corner. But, by and large, I like the simplicity of my 2009 flip-phone. It has certain intrinsic advantages that not even the latest app can match.

1. Utility

The charge lasts five days. I can fit it in my bra when I’m not wearing pockets. If I drop it, my main concern is how I’ll bend over to pick it up in too-tight skinny jeans—not that I just simultaneously rendered useless my phone, computer, and mp3 player.

2. Conversation Starter

I don’t feel awkward when I don’t know anyone at a party—by the end of the night, I’ll have befriended at least a dozen strangers, all fascinated that I own a still-functioning antique. Invariably, someone breaks the ice with, “Whoa, let me see that ancient relic!” From there it’s a natural segue into favorite movies, dream jobs, and relationship status.  My flip-phone continually saves me from the perils of introversion. 

3. Conveniently Self-insured

Unlike iPhones, which are constantly swiped from back pockets and even from the hands of unassuming tourists, flip-phones have a unique, built-in insurance policy: no one else wants them. Once, my purse was stolen during a small college party. I had purposefully left my wallet at home that night to avoid any late-night burrito fixes, and so the only things lost were my keys, phone, and cardigan. The purse was discovered a few days later on a neighbor’s roof—presumably the thief, dismayed by the absence of a wallet, chucked the whole bag in disgust. After recovering the purse, I was relieved to find my phone inside—apparently, the hassle of putting it up for eBay auction outweighed the five bucks it might make. In fact, the one thing missing from the purse was my Zara sweater, which goes to show that mid-line apparel is worth more to petty thieves than functional flip-phones. 

4. Role Model

For six months I tutored a high-school sophomore in Spanish. She was in the (perhaps permanent) phase of life when Apple products are the ticket to popularity and a social life. I once listened for five minutes while she recapped an argument she had with her dad, about why she deserved the new iPhone 5 after scoring slightly above the class average on a history test. 

Later, I went downstairs for the mom to pay me, and I quickly glanced at my phone for the time. Her mom instantly lit up, eager to use this as a teachable moment: “See, Anna?” She told her daughter, gesturing to me. “Jenny is smart, she gets good grades, AND SHE STILL OWNS A FLIP-PHONE!” As though to say, life IS worth living, even if devoid of the Apple logo. You CAN succeed without a touch screen. One is not handicapped by owning a device that ONLY calls and texts!

I had not only helped conjugate verbs that day but had been the poster child of an underprivileged success story. If you work hard in school and get good grades, even a flip phone can’t stop you from achieving greatness!

5. Snapless

This is the real selling point, why I dream of clinging to my poor –man’s phone for years to come: The fact that I cannot send or receive Snapchats. There is no app on my phone that encourages me—if I have nothing better to do while lying on the couch—to contort my face until I have a triple chin and bugged-out eyes, snap a pic of my “hilarious” expression, and send it off to a friend who, for three to ten seconds, will share this transcendent moment with me, and even read a little blip I include: “Watching Chopped!” or “Miss you, about to nap!” A perfectly delightful brunch with friends does not need to be put on pause so one girl can whip out her phone, take a picture of her face next to a plate of scrambled eggs, and send a five-second photo to her mom, saying “GUESS WHO LEARNED TO COOK???”

Therein lies my distress over switching to an Android when I move to Spain next month. But alas—I’ll need WhatsApp to avoid high texting fees, and Google Maps to help me return to my apartment each day. Plus, an online translator will be more than welcome for those times I need to rattle off in unbroken Spanish: “Please stop sending me Snapchats of your chin hairs while I’m at work.”