如何面對(duì)失去手機(jī)的危機(jī)？

如何面對(duì)失去手機(jī)的危機(jī)？

對(duì)于十幾歲的青少年來說，兩天離開WhatsApp群聊、Snapchat和短信的生活如同被判處了兩天的單獨(dú)監(jiān)禁。失去手機(jī)已經(jīng)成為生命無法承受的痛。

測試中可能遇到的詞匯和知識(shí)：

magnitude巨大，重大['m?ɡn?tju?d]

spawn卵，產(chǎn)物，后代[sp??n]

hefty重的，肌肉發(fā)達(dá)的['hefti]

calamity災(zāi)難，不幸事件[k?'l?m?ti]

contaminated受污染的[k?n't?m?ne?t?d]

amputation切斷手術(shù)[??mpju'te??n]

repartee機(jī)靈的回答[?repɑ?r'ti?]

destitution窮困，貧窮[?dest?'tju??n]

How to deal with the phonelessness crisis（762 words）

By Robert Shrimsley

This is a story of phones and fraternity; of siblings and Snapchat. A trivial yet heartwarming tale of a favour that seemed above and beyond the call but which brought home — to me at least — the true nature of modern childhood.

Specifically, it is a story of how the boy went out of his way to spare his younger sister from something his parents saw as little more than a minor inconvenience because he understood otherwise.

Our saga began when the girl left her mobile phone with one of the boy's classmates after we bumped into him while on a trip out of town for a university open day. (I could explain the full absurd sequence of events but you wouldn't thank me.) By the time we realised the error, we were already in a taxi on the way to the station. It did not seem a big issue. The boy would retrieve the phone at school on Monday.

But this was Saturday afternoon. The girl was facing the prospect of two full phoneless days before the device would be returned to her. There was one chance to cut short her misery. Some of her brother's friends — including the one with her phone — were meeting up in London later that evening. The only problem was that he had said all day that he was not going to go. It was hot, he was tired and he did not want to go out again.

And yet, without hesitation or consultation, he immediately agreed to meet his friend at the event he'd been planning to duck. His sister did not even have to beg. He exacted no price for his effort. He could — and ordinarily would — have struck a hard deal. This was easily worth concessions of the magnitude of “clean my room for a week” or “sole use of the PlayStation” — or would be if we had a PlayStation or if he cared about the state of his room.

Then he discovered that the Tube had a restricted service. The journey into town would take him twice as long as usual. Still he did not waver. I was, frankly, astonished.

Now, he is a good kid, but the spawn will argue intensely over who gets the first bath. Hefty concessions will be extracted before one gives way over the choice of a takeaway. And as for chores, both have a policy of being extremely difficult about any unexpected requests, to ensure that we regard the transaction costs of seeking help as far higher than the price of simply doing the work ourselves.

I certainly would not have gone out of my way to help. I could have driven her to the friend's house but it was far enough to be a nuisance and two days without a phone hardly seemed a calamity. But this is where the boy and I diverged. He intuitively understood that two days without a phone was indeed a calamity, that it was to be cut adrift from your entire social sphere, from all arrangements, conversation and music.

He responded to his sister's phonelessness much as we might respond to TV charity appeals about children having to drink contaminated water. It was a crisis to which he could relate, which was too important to demand payback. It was a “Two Little Boys” moment: “Did you think I would leave you dialling … ”

(Since doing the good deed the boy has realised his error in failing to make upfront demands. Gratitude rarely lasts and retrospective terms are always harder to secure.)

We all know the feeling of leaving our phone at home — that faint sense of professional and social amputation that leaves us uneasy all day. But those of my age communicate by email for a day and we cope.

This is not how teenagers see things. Two days without access to the dazzling repartee that is a 14-year-old's WhatsApp group, to Snapchat and texts, is social solitary confinement. They do not use email. For them, no phone means dropping off the grid. Not only are they unable to organise their lives but they miss the conversations which might be the focal point of the week. Two days is a lifetime. The boy understood this and acted.

For us, the sight of the spawn coming to each other's aid bodes well for the future, when they will have to lean on each other in times of crisis, be it sickness, destitution or — God forbid — a lost phone.