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