Phone Charger
SANITY ON BACKORDER
From Hive Peak Boulevard
By Danu Marche
Humor Columnist
Published: November 11, 2025
Synapse & Spectacle
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This week, my phone charger decided it’s emotionally unavailable.
I went to bed with a fully connected, reassuringly glowing setup — phone tucked in, cord snug, the little lightning bolt icon flashing like it was saying, “We’re in this together.”
And then morning hit. Battery: 7%.
The cord was still plugged in, the phone still resting like a deadbeat tenant, and yet, somehow, the charger had ghosted me halfway through the night. No note, no warning — just vanished commitment.
This isn’t the first time. My chargers seem to share a collective pact: work fine for three weeks, then collapse like an overdramatic actor clutching its chest in Act Two. One minute they’re humming with purpose, the next they’re limp spaghetti, coiled in a corner like they’ve been through a war I didn’t witness.
It’s betrayal in the dark — and worse, it’s silent betrayal.
The unnerving part is the morning mental spiral. Was it me? Did I wrap the cord too tightly? Did I push it too far with that one couch-nap binge-charging session? Am I the kind of person who takes power for granted until it’s gone?
I’ve tried every angle. Bargaining, pleading, gentle coiling rituals. I once even whispered to one, “I believe in you.” It flickered like it was touched, then died a slow, mocking death.
And just when I think it’s only my chargers, I hear the stories: friends who wake to find their phones at 12%, people whose laptops won’t acknowledge a cable they’ve known since college, entire households driven to late-night gas station charger runs like addicts chasing a fix.
Halfway through my frustration spiral this morning, I spotted movement outside the window. No surprise. Perched on the neighbor’s fence post, the squirrel was holding a perfectly round walnut like it was a gavel, tail flicking like a smug metronome. It locked eyes with me, rapped the nut against the wood three times, and vanished into the hedge — as if delivering a verdict I was clearly losing.
Of course, the modern solution is to “just order another one,” because apparently we live in a world where planned obsolescence is a hobby and electronics companies are quietly running their own black-market cord scarcity economy. I’ve been through so many replacements I’m considering keeping them in a spreadsheet with cause-of-death notes.
I know this shouldn’t feel personal. It’s plastic and copper, not a relationship. And yet… when your phone goes dark mid-alarm, leaving you late, un-caffeinated, and cursing a useless wire — it feels personal.
So tonight, I’ll set up another fresh charger, make sure the cord isn’t bent, and gently tuck my phone in like it’s a beloved houseplant. I’ll tell myself that this time it will last. That this time we’ll see each other through until sunrise.
But deep down, I know the truth: tomorrow morning, I’ll wake to betrayal.
“If your chargers have formed a union and gone on strike, please forward the demands list.”
©2025 Danu Marche
