I’m a trying hard minimalist. Our mother raised us that way and now I’m fully embracing and advocating such a lifestyle. I believe, for the longest time that you only replace whatever is broken. If it’s not broken yet, then use it until it can serve its purpose.
Nothing wrong with that, right? But oftentimes it’s just so hard to keep such a way of life, especially now that developments and improvements are happening so quickly that the most expensive and the latest model of a certain gadget will be a candidate as a museum-grade artifact in a few years or even months. True isn’t it?
A couple of years ago, I think that was around February of 2010 when I had a meeting with the Account Manager of one of the largest cosmetic chain store here in Manila. I was called to her office for an afternoon meeting. That being the case, I came over in chic-corporate attire (something I rarely use, so I’m sure it looks good and new). I slipped on my cute kitten heels and same colored cocktail bag to match. I decided to bring a small bag since a pen and a small notebook would suffice for this short but important meeting, and of course I have my 4-year old motorolla-flip-top mobile phone with me.
Her office is at the 9th floor so I took the lift and went straight to her office. Our meeting went well and we agreed into great terms for both of our company. I feel great after the meeting, I even felt so confident.
On my way down the lobby, I had to call our driver to tell him that we’re going back to the office. So I made a call inside the elevator (yes, there’s a full signal inside). After our short conversation, I hung up and noticed I have some important messages from the office and while I’m reading my messages, I heard a voice of a man talking to his friend,
Man A: Pare, kaparehas mo PA ng phone oh.
Man B: Oo nga.
Of course, they caught my attention, and I was about to give them a mind-your-own-phone-look when I saw a phone similar to mine (but in silver color) in the hand of a man who is sending an SMS. As I raise my head even further, I saw the two of them looking at my hands, este my phone in full disgust. And at that moment the air in the elevator was filled embarrassment radiating from me. The man who owns a similar phone to mine is like in his mid to late forty with a receding hairline and probably has a child in college who apparently has a pass for using such a remote cell phone. Shame!
I tell you, its not easy trying to be minimalist. Wink!