Story 257: Never Thought I Would Have an Internet Addiction

            Dear Diary,

            It’s very big of me to admit to you that I have a problem.

          No, not that other problem I last wrote you where I was failing Calc 101 – so sorry I never closed the loop there: turned out I succeeded in failing it, dashed my mathematician dreams in Freshman Year, whatcha gonna do.

          So this problem is a little more… comprehensive, I think is the word I want.  It’s come to my attention recently that I’ve developed a group of habits that I believe can be classified as an addiction (not certain, failed Psych 101 too, this is a best guess), especially since it’s passed the test of “I can stop whenever I want” and I know I really don’t want.  To stop, that is.  It’s not drugs, or even porn (the parentals at least would be relieved about that), but that grand culmination of humanity’s achievements: The Internet.

            And yes, this is a thing (you can become addicted to pretty much anything, sadly).

           Oh, I can imagine a time without it – scratch that, I remember a time without it, I am that old.  I started in small doses, like all the kids do, just for fun, like all the kids do.  Then I wound up needing it to get homework done and then work-work done, so it became a chore.  Then the rest of the world got onboard with it, and now no one can do anything without checking the Web site first.

            I think I can spot the exact moment of my downfall: when I migrated from desktop to laptop.  Being able to stretch out and surf the cyber-waves of cat videos and entertainment updates in the newfound nerds’ paradise has been my utter ruin.

            However, this begs the question: is it so much worse than spending hours watching TV?  Or spending hours talking on the phone?  Or spending hours pondering the meaninglessness of life while cooking, cleaning, and tending to an ungrateful family tree?  At least with my issue, I’m actually reading more than I did when text printed on murdered plants was the only option.

            I am finding it harder and harder to shut it down at night, though.  My brain keeps telling my conscience – or my conscience keeps telling my brain? – “Just one more article” – “Just one more video” – “Just want to check my bank statement” – “Wait a minute, I forgot to send out that e-mail” – “Why did they stop following me???”

            The ironic part is that I’m more in touch with my friends now than I ever was with regular old phone and print correspondence.  Doesn’t that make me less antisocial, hm?

            I lost three hours the other night on a role-playing game, but since I had to work with other (human) players in order for any of us to get anywhere, I would say that is equivalent to and possibly even beats a night of cribbage with the neighbors, wouldn’t you?

            Still, I then lost another three hours catching up on Season 2 of I-can’t-even-remember-what-the-show’s-called.  Does reading reams of fan fiction exploring the nuances of characters hooking up in all ways count as consuming literature?  It sure lasted me until the wee hours, when both the computer and I woke up and realized we had never left the couch.

            Case in point: I’ve interrupted this diary entry six times to check my e-mail and post pictures of my dinner in various stages.  If no one comments on those I’ll just scream, if I hadn’t already moved on to watching a video showing whichever celeb I’m into now disappointing me with their shenanigans, yet again.

            I can’t live off four hours of sleep a night, but I can’t pull myself out of the alluring black hole, either.  After a rough day at work, or a rough day at school, or just a rough day, or even just a day, this is the one thing that soothes me – isn’t that how it usually starts?  Is it the dopamine rush?  Had to replace fulfillment in life with something, I guess.

         Volunteer work?  Quality time with family and friends?  Who has the energy?  Or the inclination?  Not this guy.

            Enough of that – I’ve gotta get back to arguing with myself under different account names on my favorite site’s comments section.  Aaaand I just realized that I may need to talk to someone else besides you about this whole thing.

            Your friend in surreality,

            A Self-Aware Troll

Story 227: How Do I Know When It’s Not a Scam?

            Flipping through his mail, the homeowner sorted most of the letters to the garbage and one to bills when the last piece caught his eye: “IMPORTANT: DO NOT DISCARD UNDER PENALTY OF PRISON.”

            “Ooh, prison, that’s a new one.”  He opened the envelope and read through the papers; confused, he called his father.

            “Hi there, son!  Sorry I haven’t called in ages – super busy – how’s it been?”

            “Great; listen, have you ever received a survey in the mail threatening jail time if you don’t complete it?”

            “Sounds like a scam.”

            “That’s my first instinct, but what if it isn’t and I actually do get jail time for not completing it?!”

            “Well, who’s it from?”

            “Says it’s the ----- Survey for the Department of --------.”

          “Never heard of that first one, but why don’t you go online and see if the Department of -------- really does send those things out?  There should be a phone number you can call; just don’t use the one listed on the letter.”

            “That makes perfect sense, but what if I actually retrieve a fake Web site created for the sole purpose of making this whole thing look legitimate?!”

            “Can’t help you there.”

            The homeowner spent half an hour online trying to verify that the letter came from the actual Department of -------- and still was not satisfied; he then called the number listed on their Web site.

            “Department of --------, how may I direct your call?”

           “Yes hi, I’m a concerned citizen trying to confirm whether a letter I received in the mail stating that I’ll be sent to prison if I don’t complete the ----- Survey is real?”

            “Quite real, sir – you have 60 days to complete the survey before agents are sent to arrest you for noncompliance.  The survey should only take 15 to 20 minutes of your time.”

            “That’s not the point!  Isn’t it illegal to be arrested for something so trivial?!”

            “Not when it impacts taxes, sir; plus, no one would do it otherwise.”

            “That’s baloney, just offer a gift card or something.”

            “There’s no money in the budget for several thousand gift cards every year.”

            “That’s exactly what a scammer would say!”

            “You’re the one who called us.  Sir.”

            “Yeah, and how do I know this number is really for the Department of --------, eh?  You could have created a fake Web site that people get redirected to, with a fake number to direct inquiries to, and then the trap is sprung, and I’m not falling for it!”

            “…Is there anything else I can help you with today, sir?”

            “No thank you; you’ve satisfactorily answered my question, Satan!”

           He disconnected the call, uncertain how to proceed.  Should he track down an actual telephone book (if one still existed in this area of space-time) to determine the actual telephone number for the actual Department of --------?  What if the scammers had had the foresight to scam the telephone book publisher, too?  There was no way to know for certain what in life was real.

           Later that day, he completed the survey – never mind the threat of prison, he just could not face the thought of receiving reminder letters for this over and over again.