The red light flashes. It’s a summons I cannot ignore. Doesn’t matter where I am. Or what I’m doing. Or who I’m with. The red light must be heeded. At once. Or the pain will follow.
Distracting me from the conversation I’m in. From the book I’m reading. The TV show I’m watching. The long story my children are telling me. The ice cream I’m eating. Nothing is stronger than the call of the red light.
Not to respond to the flashing red light means unbearable anxiety. So many unanswered questions that only heeding that call could answer. Just the agony of not knowing … it’s too much to bear.
I can’t do it, I have to respond. Now. I know it’s rude, and it’s going to upset people, cause misunderstandings and possibly fights. But you don’t understand! You cannot see the red light flashing and ignore it.
I disgust myself sometimes. I never thought I would be so meekly subservient. So ready to give the red light such a high priority in my life, after I used to look down on other red light addicts for so long. I see my husband rolling his eyes. “Here we go again.” I know my children are willing me not to let it get in the way of our time together.
I hate that I’m darting glances in that direction, making sure I don’t miss a single moment from when the red light starts flashing. It’s the weekend. I shouldn’t be thinking about the red light at all. But not knowing tears at me. Consumes my attention. Demands an answer. Now.
Is it an e-mail? Or text message? An instant message? I just need to know. Now. To heck with self-control, I’m finding out now. I give in. And pick up my BlackBerry.
It’s an e-mail from the wife of an ousted minister in an African banana republic, who very kindly wants to give me a lot of money. It appears that I have also won millions of euros in a lottery draw I never entered. There’s a joke about George Bush (still?) in my SMS inbox. Oh well, it could have been something really important and then how would I have felt if I hadn’t read it at once?
Messages read, the red light goes off, ready to summon me the second I get another one. But I will be stronger the next time, I really will. I will show the red light who is boss. Oh no, what if the next time round it is something from my boss? Guess it’ll have to be from the time after next, then.
— The writer is a manager in a telecommunications company and a Gulf News reader.
I disgust myself sometimes. I never thought I would be so meekly subservient. So ready to give the red light such a high priority in my life...
