TL;DR: A Gen Z mobile developer experiences the “catastrophic” event of dropping her phone into a 20-metre-deep harbour, gets cut off from the world for a brief moment, and realises how much effort it takes to live without what’s basically become an extension of ourselves in today’s world.
On a Friday evening, I found myself in a rather unfortunate situation. I’d had a last-minute idea, while heating up dessert, that my inner whimsical self deserved a more serene setting than my apartment. So, I set out for the Wellington Harbour, plate in hand, and found a lovely waterside spot to perch upon. You can probably guess what happened next.
It was all in slow motion. Just as I thought, “How funny or stupid would it be if I fell in?”, my phone leapt out of my shallow pocket (women’s clothing problems ), somersaulted five times, and landed in the water with a very satisfying plop. My headphones instantly disconnected. I knew it was a goner.
Surprisingly, I didn’t panic. Maybe I was in shock, or maybe just grateful it wasn’t my keys (my flatmate was away for the weekend) or, worse, myself (I’m an awful swimmer and keep saying I’ll get lessons again). So, I sat there, checked if anyone noticed, briefly considered diving in, and then, with nothing else to do, finished my dessert.
Walking home, the reality started to sink in. It’s wild how much our lives revolve around our phones. Maps, calendars, health tracking - I’ve even been unable to order from restaurants without scanning a QR code?! Everything just assumes you have a device in hand. And without mine, everything felt quiet. No music, no messages, no idle scrolling…just me and my thoughts. Maybe that’s something I should embrace more often.
Then the real issues started. I couldn’t log in to most accounts without 2FA codes sent to my (now underwater) phone number or authentication app. Banking was the biggest problem since it required confirmation codes via SMS. To make things worse, I couldn’t even call the help centre, and local branches are closed on weekends. With hopes of having money in the right accounts, I started carrying a physical wallet again since I usually rely on PayWave.
Not to mention, the small things that caught me off guard: topping up my bus card, booking an Uber, using my Apple Watch, even setting an alarm. My dad calls me a few times a week, and I couldn’t even tell him what happened. I truly don’t understand how people used to meet up without phones. What do you do in an emergency? The more I thought about it, the more impossible it felt to live without one.
As I figured out how to survive the weekend, something unexpected happened: I started to enjoy it. I’ve always known I use my phone too much, but never had the self-control to stop. If it wasn’t obvious yet, I am in my mid-twenties and grew up during the rapid development of technology and rise of social media, so it feels unnatural to disconnect. Yet being able to disconnect, even briefly, I realise is a privilege. The world isn’t built for it anymore. Everything assumes you’re reachable and online. One friend told me she literally needs her phone just to get into her office.
Funnily enough, we’d just been talking at work about how younger generations are turning away from social media and going back to “dumb phones”. The kind that only do the basics: calls, texts, alarms, maybe Snake if you’re lucky. Picture a Nokia brick. Could I simply be like the youths (this is how I know I am getting older when I use these terms), and get on board with the “dumb” phone trend? It’s definitely a more realistic approach.
As a mobile developer, it also made me think about the systems we build and how deeply they’re woven into people’s daily lives. Convenience has become a necessity. Every design choice, every tap, every notification reinforces that connection. Maybe the challenge for us isn’t just to make things easier, but to design experiences that still leave room to breathe.
Losing my phone forced a pause and reminded me how dependent I am, how connected we all are, and how rare true disconnection has become. Could I challenge myself to go a month without a phone, or is that simply impossible?
It’s almost poetic; the irony of being a mobile developer without a mobile phone.