What did we do before cell phones?

Probably something dangerous

Quick note before we dive in: there’s a special announcement at the end of this post — especially if you like free stories. ~ T.

If I see one more column, meme, or bathroom‑wall manifesto lamenting the good ol’ days before cell phones, I’m going to scream. You know the ones I mean. They’ve got titles like:

• “What Did People Do Before Cell Phones?”

• “How Cell Phones Are Sucking Away Your Soul (and Probably Your Childhood Memories)”

• “One Crazy Reason to Toss Your Phone and Go Back to Smoke Signals”

I’m half‑expecting the next one to be “Why Carrier Pigeons Were the Real Influencers.”

Let me save you some time. I’ll tell you what we did before cell phones (or mobile phones for my UK friends). We read newspapers. We listened to music. We scribbled notes in notebooks. We stared out the window and daydreamed. We occasionally got lost and—brace yourself—asked for directions. In other words, we did most of the same things we do now… except instead of one sleek pocket‑sized device, we lugged around paper, cassettes, and loose change for payphones. Simpler times — and heavier pockets.

Were there upsides to that era? Sure. There were also massive downsides. Let’s not pretend frantically looking for a payphone at 2 a.m. on the side of a deserted highway was “character building.” It was terrifying. And for every romanticized “deep conversation at the diner” memory, there were plenty of awkward silences and times you were bored out of your skull because you forgot your book at home.

But that’s nostalgia for you—she’s a liar with a selective memory. She edits out the boredom, the tetanus, and the fact that half our childhood ‘adventures’ were just waiting in parking lots for someone to pick us up; usually in a car without air conditioning. Nostalgia convinces us that standing in line at the DMV without a phone was a meditative practice, when in reality it was just thirty minutes of staring at a wall trying not to die of boredom.

This isn’t me saying phones are perfect. They’re not. They can be distracting, addictive, and, yeah, sometimes they make us lousy at being present. But blaming the phone is like blaming the fork for making you gain weight. It’s not the tool; it’s how you use it.

The truth is, humans haven’t changed all that much. We’ve always looked for connection, entertainment, distraction, and escape. Cavemen doodled on cave walls to avoid awkward small talk around the fire. The phone just consolidated all those instincts into one shiny rectangle.

The “phones ruined everything” crowd also conveniently forgets that before smartphones, we were hardly paragons of social grace. We ignored each other with newspapers, Walkmans, Game Boys, and—let’s be honest—just plain zoning out. The only difference now is the glow. You can spot our distractions from across the room.

And don’t get me started on the idea that pre‑cell‑phone childhoods were magically perfect. Sure, we played outside more. But we also drank from garden hoses, rode in cars without seatbelts, and were one rusty seesaw away from tetanus. Some of us even rode our bikes behind the bug spray truck — because nothing says childhood freedom like inhaling mystery chemicals and coming home with a faint green tint. Let’s not canonize danger just because it’s vintage.

I get it. The world feels loud. We’re tired. We miss “simpler times.” But “simpler” doesn’t always mean “better.” The internet gave us instant news, global friends, and yes, a firehose of memes. It also gave everyone with a Facebook account the power to shout their unvetted opinions at scale. The trade‑off is messy. But we’re not going back.

So instead of writing yet another finger‑wagging think piece about how “phones are stealing our souls,” maybe we should start asking a better question: What kind of relationship do we want to have with this tech? Because cell phones aren’t going anywhere. Neither is our need to connect—or our tendency to misuse whatever shiny thing comes next.

And if you’re one of those folks longing for the days of smoke signals and handwritten letters, that’s fine. Romanticize away. Just don’t expect me to join you. I like my maps that talk to me, my music library in my pocket, and the ability to summon tacos at midnight—without needing exact change.

So the next time you see one of those “Phones ruined everything!” posts, do yourself a favor—scroll past it. Ironically, on your phone.

And if that irony bothers you? Don’t worry. There’s probably an app for that. And if not, give it a week — someone’s coding it in a coffee shop right now; probably on their cell phone.

———

PS: Speaking of screens, I’ve got something coming your way — a brand‑new serialized story dropping in the next couple of weeks. The first two episodes? Free. If you like tense storytelling, flawed heroes, and a little techno‑horror in your life, you’re going to want to stick around. Details soon.

~Tony