There was a time I was a slave to my cellphone or, in the now unthinkable pre-cellphone era, my pager. When my phone rang or my beeper buzzed, and it was work on the other end, it was as if Pavlov had picked up a bell and started clanging it all over the room. I stopped in my tracks and knew what I had to do next: run to a television; call the newsdesk; forget whatever my plans were for the rest of the day; prepare myself for the next round of breaking news to come barreling into my relative calm. Because that was my job.
To continue reading this article, please go here. A Banter Membership gets you weekly access to the digital magazine and all our Members Only Articles. Supporting independent media is now more important than ever, so please consider joining and helping us remain that way!
Image: by ka92