When Outlook stopped working Thursday, I suggested that since Microsoft had decided to take a break, the rest of us should go home, too.

Unfortunately, nobody put me in charge of that decision.

Instead, I wrote about the outage, watched so many people come to our website to read about it that our own site briefly crashed, and then found myself helping explain to our server support team why we could not use our email to get assistance.

Because our email was down.

Which, conveniently, was the subject of the story that helped crash the website in the first place.

To get help, we needed to provide a code sent to our email or respond through the email address associated with our account. We explained the problem to six people. They had access to the website. They could see it was down. But we still had to keep explaining that asking us to use Outlook was going to be a slight obstacle.

Eventually, after enough complaining, we got help.

Apparently, our backup system was persistence.

Everything Leads Back to an Inbox

The Microsoft outage disrupted Outlook and other services, but what stayed with me was how difficult it became to solve one problem when the tool required to solve it was having a problem of its own.

We have tied so much of our lives to an inbox and the supercomputers we carry in our pockets that losing access can leave us trying to prove we are ourselves through something we cannot open.

And while all this was happening, what did I do?

I refreshed. I checked my phone. I went to social media to see how bad the outage was. Then I made a video joking that we should all go home, which did some good numbers.

Give me an interruption in my regularly scheduled screen time, and apparently I will find another screen and create more work for myself.

I wish I could say I used the moment to breathe, stepped outside, and appreciated a brief escape from being constantly available.

I Remember When We Had to Get Off the Internet

Millennials remember when going online required making an actual decision.

I remember dial-up, when using the internet meant tying up the phone line. Before Wi-Fi became something we expected everywhere, we had to connect the computer and wait through a noise that sounded like the machine was arguing with the entire telephone company. And strangely, when I hear that sound now, it comforts me.

I remember limited text messages and waiting until after 9 p.m. to call people long distance? because apparently friendship needed to happen during approved billing hours.

But I also remember riding my bike more, spending more time outside, and going to a friend’s house to knock on the door and see whether they were available.

Somehow, we managed to make plans without knowing everyone’s location, battery percentage, and estimated arrival time.

I appreciate being able to reach people easily now. Still, I miss how ordinary it felt to be unavailable. You could be outside, away from the computer, and nobody expected you to be monitoring three different ways they might contact you.

Now I want to be able to leave my phone in another room without feeling like I need to go check it.

That should be a fairly achievable personal goal, and yet here we are.

What Are We Saving All This Time For?

Technology is incredibly useful for organizing our lives and making work easier. In a small newsroom, those tools help us keep up with more than we could otherwise manage.

But I think we need to pay attention when convenience becomes an excuse to stop thinking.

Research can be tedious. So can reading through information, checking whether an answer makes sense, and trying again when you get something wrong. Those are also the parts that teach us how to understand something.

A friend of mine has children who copy and paste their homework into ChatGPT. They can get an answer and move on, but I wonder how much they are learning when the process of figuring something out disappears.

I understand wanting to get through the mundane tasks so we can do something we value more. But what are we doing with the time we save?

Sometimes, we are going straight to social media or video games, spending even more of our day connected to something else.

I know scrolling does not leave me feeling rested. I can put my phone down feeling more stressed and agitated than when I picked it up, then reach for it again a few minutes later.

I would like to explain the logic behind that, but I am still looking for it myself.

The Break We Never Took

If the internet went down for an entire day, I would want to go outside and let myself fully escape for a while.

As a reporter on a small team, stepping away is difficult. There is always something happening, something to check, or something we are trying to catch up on. Add my other commitments and side quests, and being involved can feel like being permanently available.

My work is important to me. But I also need to remember that the world would keep going if I took a moment to breathe.

I want to remember what it felt like to be somewhere without checking somewhere else. To leave my phone in a room and feel comfortable staying out of it. To enjoy some of the life I remember before being connected became an expectation.

Thursday gave me plenty of time to think about that while we tried to get everything working again.

Then our website came back, and I immediately returned to work. We never got a real break.

Outlook took one without asking. I am still trying to figure out why I feel like I need permission.

About the Author

Anthony W. Haddad is a Fresno-based reporter and columnist known for the award-winning Millennial View column series and Local Side Quests, which explores overlooked events, businesses, and experiences across the Fresno area. His work covers a wide range of topics, from pressing local issues and community concerns to the everyday challenges, culture, and experiences shaping life in the Central Valley.

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