I haven’t seen my friend in weeks. I’ve texted her about every other day, trying to set up a lunch date or study session, and I always get the same response: “Let me check my calendar.” A few minutes later, the answer is a resounding no.
But I kept at it, like the determined, nagging friend I am, and finally, she found a 45-minute window to grab some coffee. It was supposed to be a quick time to laugh and catch up on the mediocre things happening in our lives.
But when I walked into the cafe, I noticed that my friend was not alone. No, she was accompanied by her laptop and phone, both screens displaying an overwhelming grid of colors and times — the telltale design of Google Calendar.
Of course, I’ve used Google Calendar before, typically for exam dates, the occasional doctor’s appointment and other events that I can’t afford to miss.
I can easily remember my class schedule. I go to the gym when I feel like it. My job has a separate website where I can view everyone’s shifts. Other than a few hastily scribbled reminders, I only open up my Google Calendar when I forget what day it is.
But she seems to be on a whole other level, a different plane of existence. She’s the CEO of time, which is the most valuable currency amidst the bustling, on-the-go landscape that is college, and I am but an unpaid intern desperately trying to reconnect.
“Hey, how have you been?” I asked, disregarding the fact that she didn’t look up and continued to tap away on her phone.
“Really busy,” she replied, her head gesturing to the monstrosity on her laptop that started to make me feel nauseous. “But this helps me manage. You should use it.”
I shifted uncomfortably, sipping my now-lukewarm coffee. I started to feel self-conscious, and decided if she was going to spend the rest of the time we had together looking at Google Calendar, so would I.
