A quarterly newletter by the Boston Chapter of the Association of Legal Administrators

CrackBerry Anonymous

I was at a charitable road race a few months ago.  There for the charity and not as a runner but it was a good cause so I decided to give the 5K a try.  Standing toward the back of the pack at the starting line, nerves beginning to mount, I was thinking to myself, “I hope there is plenty of water on the course! Where’s the shade? Are there some EMTs out there?”  I was trying desperately to remember Survivor Palau in hopes of a tidbit, any tidbit that would help me finish the race alive.  As 10:00AM approached, everyone started edging closer to the starting line.  I settled in behind a slim man in his thirties.  He looked like a Nike commercial decked out in a nicely tucked in tank top running shirt made out of that new wicking fabric and a pair of red Nike running shorts.  No doubt about it, he was a runner.  Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I notice his hands in front of him, chest high, with his fingers flailing away.   I looked closer, thinking this might be some pre-race ritual that might give me an edge.  This was no ritual; he was typing a message into his BlackBerry.  “What could possibly be so important that it required an answer at 9:59 and 40 seconds on a Saturday morning?”  “Is this guy really Donald Trump in disguise?”  I was about to ask him what law firm he worked for and then it dawned on me that I was seeing my first CrackBerry addict.  I had heard about them but have never seen one.  “How can it be?  These things shouldn’t be happening in my town?  Where’s my wallet?  I hope my kids don’t see him!”  The gun sounded and he kept keying away as he began to nudge forward.  I soon lost him in the crowd, never to see him again. 

A month later, I was sitting on a beautiful Cape Cod beach on a perfect weather day with my wife, boys, a couple of boogie boards and a cooler.  Life could not be better.  Not a care in the world.  I then witnessed what can only be described as an out of body experience.  I watched helplessly as my hand reached into the beach bag and pull out my BlackBerry for no reason at all.  I was powerless to stop it.  Nothing urgent on this calm, peaceful Sunday.  I turned it on, and my fingers twitched as I waited for it to retrieve my messages.  It hit me hard.  “Oh my god, I have become a CrackBerry addict.”  I instantly flashbacked to the runner.  “What should I do?  This can’t be happening to me, I’m a family man!”  I know.  I’ll send an email to my EAP.  Can’t wait for a reply!

 

Kevin Costello