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A Timeline Of Your Phone Battery Running Out

ios-low-battery

34 Percent: Oh no. I forgot to plug in my iPhone last night. Well, I actually did plug it in, but I forgot to actually put it in the wall. Why drunk me thought that electricity would flow from an outlet to the wire without ever connecting is a question I don’t think I’ll ever be able to answer. I’m never drinking again. Whatever, I have a 30 minute commute to work, so I’ll just bring my charger with me.

32 Percent: Aaaaaaand I left my charger on the kitchen table. What did I do to deserve this, God? I understand I skipped Lenten Mass yesterday and instead offered lotion to all my ashy Catholic coworkers, but is this really a fair and reasonable punishment?

31 To 24 Percent: *plays Fratty Bird while driving* (Note from the author – Don’t frat and drive. Both hands on the wheel, guys.)

23 Percent: This is going to be a long day. Making less than a quarter battery last all day will be the hardest thing I’ve had to do–well, at least since I went home with that one 6 foot 8 man who was definitely proportionate in all the right places, if you know what I mean. You can do this, kid. Quit refreshing your Twitter that has no notifications and stop sending Snapchats of your cube mate picking his nose to your entire friend list. Eight more hours. You got this. Go!

22 To 21 Percent: Still no notifications on Twitter. I thought that tweet about the coffee already being cold before the workday even began would be popular. I’m a failure.

20 Percent: Low Battery. Twenty percent of my battery remains. Oh my God, it’s starting: the red battery. It’s not even 10:00 a.m. and my phone has already notified me that its death clock is counting down percentage points until I am cut off from the world. Somebody in this office has got to have a charger I can borrow for the next hour or so. Somebody has got to help me through this.

19 Percent: Sheryl, the receptionist who is basically dust, was no help–she still confuses her calculator with her flip phone. The janitor called me a democrat for asking if he would share his charger with me. The intern had an iPhone 5 with the charger that’s about the size of his dick. Am I out of touch with technology for still having the 4s, or just cheap for not wanting to replace all of my chords?

12 Percent: HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? I’ve been patient and kept my phone on silent for a whole 30 minutes. I check my empty inbox and bam! Seven percent gone. That can’t be how physics works.

11 Percent: Oh no. It’s coming.

10 Percent: “Low Battery: 10% of battery remaining.” IT CAME. IT ACTUALLY CAME.

9 To 6 Percent: Still no Twitter notifications.

5 Percent: I have to go to that meeting downtown in 10 minutes. Without Google Maps, I am physically incapable of getting anywhere. My high school superlative was “Most Likely to Follow the GPS into a River.” Does MapQuest still exist? Oh God, I’m turning into my mother.

4 Percent: MapQuest does, indeed, still exist. How do I print these directions when I gave up on learning how to work the printer about two minutes into accepting this job? Oh you know what, I’ll just download the MapQuest app. Easy. And we…are…downloading!

2 Percent: I AM A MORON AND MY HEART RATE IS THROUGH THE ROOF.

1 Percent: What does it say about our generation that I honestly feel as if I am walking down the aisle to my own funeral? I need to make this 1 percent stretch. Did I mention I’ve never driven a car without a GPS?

Still 1 Percent: Ten minutes later: you’re a champ, phone.

Still 1 Percent: Three more minutes later: is this a record? I am the goddess of all things technological. I totally have, like, a ton of Twitter notifications because I’m just so awesome. Refresh that shit like you are trying to maneuver TicketMaster when Beyoncé’s tickets go on sale. Hell, I’ll even check how my lunch Insta is doing. Maybe I’ll have time to crush a few candies while–

Blackout screen with lone white apple in the middle.

0 Percent: I’m never drinking again.

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Topanga

Topanga is a contributing writer for Post Grad Problems. Lover of red wine, mediocre gossip, and Corey's whipped ass.

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