Self-Reckoning

Recently, a moment of self-realization hit me between the eyes. It blindsided me without warning during a normal business trip to Chicago.

While waiting for my flight, my trusty hot spot sat loyally at my side, fueling laptop and me to complete some "very important" work. Feeling empowered with decent Internet speeds, I zipped through emails, slayed spreadsheets, and dominated looming deliverables.

When my boarding group was called, I smugly walked down the jet way. I had completed a good number of things on my evil to-do list and it was only 8:00 a.m. I found my window seat, sat back, and took a deep breath of productivity. Donning noise-cancelling headphones, I prepared for a micro-nap. Then, it hit me: I had left the power cord for my hot spot in an airport electrical socket.

A silent scream spewed from my brain. It was gone. Plug was lost. Hot spot would be powerless. I. would. be. POWERLESS!

Pulling myself together, I realized there was a simple solution to this hot-spot-lacking-power thing. I’d do what everyone else does: I’d use public or hotel Wi-Fi. No biggie. Many very productive people share the Internet with others. I was acting like a spoiled editor. I’d buck up.

After landing, exiting the airport, and checking into my hotel, I and my new attitude were ready to get back to work. Agreeing to the hotel’s terms and conditions, I quickly discovered that the hotel had slowwwwwww Internet. After many attempts to download a Word document, I literally fell asleep waiting for the speed to improve.

Unfortunately, morning came and the bandwidth was still sleeping. Determined to find a solution, I went to the nearest Starbucks for bandwidth relief and some java. Everyone had the same idea. It was Internet purgatory. My hot spot withdrawals continued.

Angst rising, I arrived at the office to learn that my colleagues were on a mission to STEAL my bandwidth. I found myself not playing well with others. I could think of only one thing. I was a bandwidth junkie looking for a fix. It wasn’t pretty.

It was time to give in or go nutty. Driving like a bat out of h&%%, I squealed into the nearest Verizon retail parking lot. Holding my dead hot spot like a tiny injured bird, I shuffled into the store with a pitiful look on my face. "Pleeeease, tell me you have a cord to bring my hot spot back to life. It doesn’t matter how much it is. Just puh-leeeeease tell me I can get my own personal bandwidth back."

Thankfully, they responded to my begging. Within minutes I walked out of the store feeling more like my old hot-spot narcissistic self.

Sure, that was an ugly day I wouldn’t confess to many — except to you. You get it. We are all cut from the same cloth. We try to deny it. But, once deprived of the bandwidth we crave, we become someone we don’t recognize.

#editorialfancyproblems