I Survived Just Fine Before Smartphones. So Why Does My Toaster Need an App?

I belong to a generation that watched the internet change the world, and I loved every minute of that technological revolution. Suddenly, information was at our fingertips, the world became a much smaller place, and possibilities seemed endless. But somewhere between celebrating this miracle and being asked to download an app to operate a toaster, I began to wonder whether we’d got a little carried away.

That’s what caught my attention about August Lamm‘s You Don’t Need a Smartphone. After burning out as a social media influencer, Lamm sold her smartphone, switched to a simpler phone and discovered the freedom of life beyond the screen. It’s an interesting idea, especially for someone like me who remembers when being unreachable for a few hours wasn’t considered a national emergency.

I also remember when exchanging phone numbers came with a handy escape route. If I didn’t want to hear from someone again, I could give them a fake number and disappear into the sunset. Try that today! Someone grabs your smartphone, enters their number and asks you to call so they can save yours. There goes your getaway. You’re practically under surveillance before you’ve finished saying goodbye.

Sometimes I feel we’re all being recruited into the Borg Collective from Star Trek. Everyone is connected, everyone is sharing, and resistance is supposedly futile. Well, I’ve got news for the Borg: I do not want to be assimilated into your world! I quite like my privacy, thank you very much, and I don’t need every casual acquaintance permanently installed in my digital universe.

Now, I don’t buy the argument that smartphones automatically make us dumber. They give us access to an astonishing amount of knowledge, and I’ve spent enough time exploring the internet to appreciate that. The trouble is that having information at our fingertips doesn’t mean we’re actually taking any of it in. We scroll, swipe and skim, sometimes spending an hour online and remembering very little of what we’ve seen. It’s like visiting a library, opening every book for three seconds and announcing you’ve done your reading.

My childhood adventures with technology were a little different. Every month, I’d march into Radio Shack to collect my free battery. The company was hoping to turn me into a loyal customer, but it had seriously underestimated its target audience. I didn’t own anything that needed a battery. I just wanted the freebie! I’d walk out clutching it like I’d pulled off the heist of the century. Radio Shack was sponsoring a tiny freeloader with excellent business instincts, and I never bought a thing. Take that, corporate America!

Today, everything wants an app, an account, a password and permission to send notifications. Even our household appliances want to join the digital revolution. A toaster with an app? What am I supposed to do, send my bread a push notification? I just want breakfast, not another device demanding a software update. If my toaster ever asks me to reset my password, the relationship is over.

To be fair, abandoning a smartphone isn’t as simple as tossing it into a drawer and declaring yourself free. Banking, travel bookings, directions and everyday services increasingly depend on these devices. Some people take the analog lifestyle to the extreme, giving up television, computers and smartphones and relying on a weekly trip to the public library to access the digital world. I admire the commitment, but personally, that sounds less like liberation and more like being grounded by a particularly strict headmaster.

Thoreau went to Walden Pond to live deliberately, not to escape the world, but to discover what truly mattered. Perhaps today’s generation, overwhelmed by digital noise, is searching for that same balance: less distraction, more meaningful living.

I enjoy television, computers and the internet. I have no desire to retreat into a cabin and communicate with the outside world once a week. I like modern technology; I just don’t want it running my life. Surely there’s a happy medium between being permanently plugged in and having to organize a weekly expedition to check your email.

That’s where Lamm’s book gets interesting. It offers practical ways to step back, from choosing a simpler phone to navigating without GPS and meeting people offline. More importantly, it asks us to think about how much of our time, attention and independence we’re willing to surrender for convenience. I don’t have to agree with every step towards an analog lifestyle to appreciate the question.

And here’s the delicious irony. You Don’t Need a Smartphone may need websites, social media and digital marketing to reach the very people it’s encouraging to disconnect. Imagine discovering the book on Instagram, ordering it online and posting a review about how wonderful it feels to unplug. The circle is complete! It’s rather like advertising a retreat from modern life with a giant digital billboard.

I’d love to share my thoughts with August personally, but perhaps a telegram or carrier pigeon would be more appropriate. No apps, no notifications, just feathers and a message. Mind you, knowing my luck, the pigeon would arrive carrying a QR code and demand that I download an app to track its flight. At that point, I’m going straight back to Radio Shack.

Jokes aside, I think Lamm raises a worthwhile point. I don’t want to return to a world without the internet, and I certainly don’t miss having to hunt for a payphone. But I would like to reclaim the freedom to be unavailable, enjoy a conversation without interruption and spend an afternoon doing absolutely nothing productive without feeling compelled to check a screen.

I survived just fine before smartphones, before GPS and before every appliance apparently needed Wi-Fi. Technology has given us extraordinary opportunities, but convenience and happiness aren’t necessarily the same thing. I want to use these devices because they make my life better, not because the world has decided I must.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a toaster to interrogate. If it asks me to download an app, breakfast is cancelled.

Resistance is futile? Not in my kitchen. We are toast!