The art of rhetoric in Diplomacy (the board game)

I have an entire bookshelf of board games in my collection, many that I enjoy—and too many that are still in shrink wrap—but Diplomacy is still my favourite.

(Pexels / Anthony Beck)

The thing is, there are much better board games than Diplomacy. On Board Game Geek, it sits at a user-voted 7/10 and I think that’s a completely fair score. Its mechanics lack the refinement of the strategy and negotiation games that have followed in its footsteps in the decades since; it’s a pain to get people to the table to play it—even virtually; it’s mean-spirited; and I have only played it a grand total of three times in my life.

…And yet, I can’t help but gush about it to people who have never played it before or aren’t familiar with board games.

Where university students might fixate over fantasy sports leagues, constantly checking sports scores and the waiver wire or trade requests, Diplomacy occupied that part of my brain in 2014. Instead of wheeling and dealing—making offers on Crosby or Ovechkin—I was negotiating French armies and English fleets into the Iberian Peninsula. I was putting out fires with my words, assuaging fears and making assurances I had no intention of seeing through. We played online and over the course of weeks and I was obsessively checking my inbox for new messages.

The only hidden information in Diplomacy is what players may be writing to each other and players can be as transparent or as duplicitous as they prefer. Every movement a player makes, inching into regions of the board every round—even all the way in Russia—is cause for alarm and deliberation for those in the West.

In Diplomacy, seven players take control of the major European powers on the eve of the Great War and the gameplay is chess-like but played on a map. Combat is much like a rugby scrum: armies link up and muscle each other out of territories. A battle is resolved through how much adjacent “support” one side has (simulating a flanking manoeuvre, and having allies early on is necessary and crucial) which forces a retreat or the outright destruction of an opposing unit—if there is no free space to escape to.

Moving pieces around, gaining important cities so you can build more units is a simple enough concept but the real thrill of Diplomacy is the backstabbing and lies: agreements are nonbinding. The only constant one should expect is to be betrayed at some point.

The game is an exercise in the art of rhetoric. The first time I played, all of us signed off our messages as Mr. President or His Majesty the King or Holy Tsar. We referenced world events of their day and discussed the rising peril of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and the troubling ramping-up of der Kaiser’s military industrialization. But on the side, I made plans with Herr Kaiser and talked about the foolish overextension of the English fleet.

There never was any money put down on the games, but the stakes never felt higher to me. Few board games have captured the same tension and it always makes me think of a quote said of the coming war by British Foreign Secretary Sir Edward Grey in 1914: “The lamps are going out all over Europe, we shall not see them lit again in our lifetime.”

Hot Stove League: Hot Stove League

Read about how to get into baseball here.

If you’re sad about the Oakland A’s moving to Las Vegas, or if you’re jonesing for more baseball because it’s winter—and the real hot stove drama about who is getting international superstar Shohei Ohtani is somehow not enough for you—you need to binge watch the 2019 Korean drama Hot Stove League. In short, it’s Moneyball with a healthy dash of soap opera added to the mix.

(Amazon / SBS TV)

The series follows a fictional professional Korean baseball team called the Dreams, a group of long-running, last-place losers who hire a new general manager to captain the ship. The issue is, he has never worked for a baseball team before. You might be familiar with the premise because it’s very similar to Ted Lasso (as are some of the twists), but Hot Stove League is more melodrama than dramedy. Baseball fans will have much more to latch onto due to how much it wears its inspiration on its sleeve: the green and gold designs of the Dreams’ hats and uniforms are almost lifted from the Oakland A’s, and there is a focus on sabermetrics and stats, although it takes a backseat to dramatic license sometimes. Still, there are enough references to in-depth baseball here to make its nerdiest fans smile.

Over the course of 16 episodes, the team transforms from a group of uninterested has-beens racked with inflated egos and infighting (there is a power struggle between the coaches, and the team’s star player is a clubhouse cancer, for example) to a cohesive unit. While there are ups and downs—wins and losses—even betrayals and secrets revealed, it is a feel-good story and perfectly cozy for the wintertime.

The drama happens on the field and in the front office, with rival GMs, with the Dreams’ owner, clashes within the marketing department, or sketchy behaviour from the team’s scout, but it also follows the characters home too. As someone unfamiliar with K-dramas, it’s fascinating to get a window into Korean culture and lifestyle: at restaurants they constantly order pork for team functions because beef is too expensive, and I learned that crispy Korean corndogs are a thing—it made me go and look for them near me, and they are as delicious as they looked on screen.

If you are an avid baseball watcher, Hot Stove League probably won’t teach you anything you don’t already know but for me, I loved seeing something familiar in a new setting. These are not American baseball players, and in real life, the KBO and NPB (Korea’s and Japan’s professional leagues) are extremely popular. There is even a fun subplot in the series where some characters travel to California (though clearly filmed in Hawaii) to try and sign an American pitcher.

Hot Stove League is packed with story and is able to dig into all of the aspects of the sport I find incredibly enjoyable.

How to get into Formula 1 – Part 8 – “Nico hit me!”

This is the final part of an 8-part series. Part 7 is here. Click here to read Part 1.

There is a quote from the 1950s that is often misattributed to Ernest Hemingway (and Google says it’s either Barnaby Conrad or Ken Purdy who came up with it): “There are only three sports: bullfighting, motor racing, and mountaineering; all the rest are merely games.”

(Pexels / Alex Urezkov)

Discovering the hidden depth of Formula 1 in 2014 made me want to venture a little further, but just diving into a new sport or hobby can easily backfire. I haven’t been able to stick with soccer just yet, for instance. It’s crushing if something doesn’t live up to our expectations. F1 requires a lot of patience. But when it’s good, boy is it good. I believe I came into it at the perfect time.

I had the movie Rush sitting on my PVR forever, and watching that streamer play Forza Motorsport 5 gave me the push I needed to sit down and finally press play. Rush was not so concerned with rules and the procedure of F1. It was about drama and danger—a rockstar version of the sport in the ‘70s. It emphasized the fact that drivers stared down death every time they fired up their engines but that just made it all the more thrilling, all the more sexy. Drivers went to swanky parties in Italian mansions and hung out with supermodels and smoked cigarettes (nowadays drivers train like Olympic athletes… but they still hang out with supermodels in mansions).

Rush tells the real-life story of the brief but intense rivalry between drivers James Hunt (Chris Hemsworth) and Niki Lauda (Daniel Brühl). While dramatized—they didn’t hate each other that much in real life—it captures the heat of elite competition and why some men are willing to risk their lives to be number one.

I decided to watch F1 seriously soon after. The first race I watched was the 2014 Belgium GP. Watching the lights go out and the cars fly up the iconic incline (two corners which I know now are called Eau Rouge and Raidillon) for the first time is one of those seminal moments for me. No other race start since has captured that same awe that I felt.

But this race would also introduce me to Lewis Hamilton and Nico Rosberg, drivers for the Mercedes team. They were both in close contention for the championship at this point in the year, and Hamilton would be forced to retire (from the race) after a collision with Rosberg damaged his car. He radioed in bitterly: “Nico hit me.” Rosberg called it a racing incident.

What followed was two and half years of hard-fought racing and frosty, passive-aggressive cool-down rooms between the two (who usually came in first and second places), shoving each other off tracks, and even crashes that took both of them out of races. What’s so compelling is that there are photos of them from before, as children, go-karting competitively together. They were something like friends for a long time. Then collectively, we got to watch their relationship deteriorate in real time every race weekend. It was a little sad. This wasn’t wrestling, none of it was scripted. It was pure drama.

But it made me fall in love with a sport for the first time in my life.

How to get into Formula 1 – Part 7 – Pitstops and psychological warfare

Part 6 is right here.

Pit stops are the great equalizer in a race. Where anything can happen in something like baseball, Formula 1 is often consistent. Reliable engines remain towards the top of the standings. Drivers that have good results in qualifying often have good results in the race. The crucial moments where viewers’ eyes are glued to the screen are the start, and pit stops. Having a photo finish down the final stretch is rarer than you’d think—the gaps between first and second might be a full minute at times.

(Pexels / Dimitrije Djekanovic)

As a rule, each car must change its tires once during the race, and every visit to the pits takes about twenty to thirty seconds in total. Cars in front of the pack must try to stretch their lead by pushing, completing faster laps so they can safely pit and come out ahead of their competition. If a team is fortunate enough to have both drivers leading the race, the one behind may be ordered to defend, slowing down whoever may be chasing them as battling by its nature takes up more time than driving with no traffic. This also helps their teammate nurse their tires so the team can get at least one guaranteed finish on the podium or within the top ten for points.

An ideal race strategy is a one-stop, satisfying the requirement and having the durability take the driver to the end of the race. Another stop could mean that something has gone wrong for them, a flat spot or a collision that requires a longer pit stop to replace the entire front wing. But some tracks are harder on tires than others, and if other teams are doing two stops or so, strategies are adjusted on the fly. Each team carefully watches what their opponents are doing (and monitors their radio communications) so they can react in kind. In the past, you would have teams order their pit crews to grab their fresh tires and jacks and rush out of the garage with the sole purpose of causing other teams to call their drivers in to pit, but they themselves would stand around for a few minutes holding their equipment before running back inside—a fake-out.

Other tactics you might hear on the broadcast are undercuts and overcuts. An undercut is a manoeuvre where a car pits and, now on fresh tires, can quickly put in faster laps than the car in front of them so when their opponent needs to pit (recognizing the undercut, usually soon after), the overtake can happen when it is in the pits or the pitlane. An overcut is staying out when the car in front pits—on older tires but in cleaner air, pushing hard with the hope of gaining enough ground to comfortably pit and come out ahead of the first car. Overcuts are less popular, and anything you see on screen is almost always an undercut.

A bad pit can be devastating as well. Daniel Ricciardo was poised to take the Monaco GP in 2016 after taking pole, led for 32 laps until he came in for a pit stop that his team was not ready for. He sat in his car for 12 seconds, an eternity for a stop, and Hamilton took the lead and ultimately the victory—with its iconic but narrow streets, it’s difficult to overtake anybody in Monaco.

Those are the fundamentals. There is always a rabbit hole to fall down with Formula 1’s rich history, constantly changing tech, and driver drama. Join me in the final part of this series where I wrap it all up and get you to join me in watching the 2024 season of Formula 1.

How to get into Formula 1 – Part 6 – Tyres and kerbs

We’ve established how important it is for Formula 1 drivers to have the greatest amount of control going into corners in part five of this series. Does this always translate to a perfect turn every time?

Nope.

While downforce helps a driver make crazy turns, it also means a loss of grip can be race-altering (or ending) for a driver if the car ends up in a barrier or off into the gravel. That slide—even just a tiny one—might create a flat spot on one or more tires (think a rubber eraser dragged hard across the sidewalk) which then affects everything from speed to car control, effectively forcing its driver to pit. There are videos that show a pitstop that takes all of 1.8 seconds, but that’s if everything goes very, very right—and that’s not counting the precious time it takes to drive through the speed-limited pit lane.

(Pexels / Laura Paredis)

The moment I decided I had graduated from F1-interested to F1-fan was sometime in 2015, when Sebastian Vettel (having left Red Bull for the prestigious Ferrari team) was chasing down a quick Mercedes car. Nico Rosberg, I think. With every lap, he was gaining ground. Until Vettel made a mistake on a corner, brakes locking for just an instant, forcing him to take a wider turn than he wanted to. And that was it. Even though there were still a few laps to go, the chase was over for him. That tiny mistake just undid all of his work and there was no coming back from it. You could feel the fans wearing red around the track slump back in defeat. When I recognized that, it was a neat moment.

There are SO MANY tiny things that add up to form a whole picture in Formula 1. Tire management (or tyres—don’t be confused at the spelling of tires and curbs/kerbs if you stumble upon UK-based Formula 1 outlets) is one of the keys to success in motorsports: wear and tear on the tires must be considered, and even the temperature of the tires is a factor. Warmer tires provide better grip than cold ones. If you’ve seen the start of a Grand Prix, before the formation lap starts, the race engineers and pit crews keep covers over the tires until the last possible second—before the cars fire up their engines—to retain warmth. Then, on the formation lap you might see cars darting left and right, shimmying or wiggling, and that’s one way to generate heat. The drivers also need to warm up their brakes during this lap at the behest of their engineers who feed them telemetry and other relevant race information over the radio all throughout.

Tires in Formula 1 are ordered well in advance from the sport’s official and sole supplier, Pirelli. In previous eras, tires were yet another part that contributed to the battle with competing tire companies like current-day F1’s engine providers. It led to a pretty wild moment in racing history when only 6 cars lined up on the grid in 2005 at the US Grand Prix.

The tires come in different compounds, with softer compounds translating to faster cars and better grip and harder compounds lasting longer, meaning less pit stops—in theory. Track conditions and how hard a driver is on his tires determine how long his set of tires can last, but a car on newer, softer tires will almost always be able to overtake another car on older, harder tires. Teams decide on which sets of tires they will need, and must manage them all weekend, even if it means re-using them in practice sessions and even during the race. There are also variants for when it rains called “slicks” and “wets” with deep grooves, and yes: teams have had to gamble on changing weather and have gotten badly burned by their choices.

And as an official rule, cars must pit and change their tires to a new compound at least once in a race. This makes the timing of a pit stop significant.

Find out more about pit stops, including blunders and mind games that come with them.

How to get into Formula 1 – Part 5 – Downforce

Read Part 4 here.

The main difference between F1 and other racing series is the variation between its cars. Each team fields two drivers and two cars, accumulating points (by finishing within the top ten positions) between them for individual World Driver Championships and shared World Constructor Championships—like one big science fair competition, it’s a sport that rewards its nerds for building one hell of a machine.

(Pexels / Adriaan Greyling)

Where other sports fans may be abuzz with additions or subtractions to their teams’ gameday lineups, F1 fans look forward to hearing news and rumours of developments from week to week of a more technological nature: engine or aero upgrades. The engine is the engine, aero refers to all the carbon-fibre pieces surrounding the chassis (and in some eras, bizarre-looking horns placed seemingly at random)… all to shave off tenths of seconds purely from engineering and physics.

At a glance, the cars all look similar with their front and rear wings. But aside from some shared specifications and limits, the technology under the hood is all different. It can unfortunately lead to lean years in which one team secures every championship and the top two steps of the podium every weekend, until everyone watching becomes sick of hearing God Save the Queen or King during the celebration. (People became sick of hearing the German anthem before then.) If you weren’t aware, the winner of the race gets his national anthem played followed by the anthem of the country his team is based in.

Somebody once explained to me what makes Formula 1 cars stand out from other race cars. Think of the shape and aerodynamic elements needed to get a jet plane up and into the air. An F1 car is the inverse of that—its wings are designed to keep its wheels glued to the track no matter how fast it’s going. Downforce is what allows F1 cars to take those turns at such dangerous, breakneck speeds.

A closer look at the sidepods and bargeboards of an F1 car (these are real terms, I swear) reveals grooves and channels engineered specifically for airflow redirection, and no team has the same design. While this adds to the amount of downforce a car generates, a better designed car attempts to redirect the air in such a way that it doesn’t go right into their own engine’s air intake. You may hear the term clean air and dirty air during a broadcast, and this may best be explained by thinking about a boat moving across a placid lake versus a boat hitting angry waves. You might see one team’s car outperforming everyone and seemingly untouchable when out in front of the pack, but then all of a sudden look unrecognizable the moment it’s caught in another car’s turbulent wake or dirty air, especially around corners.

But an opponent’s slipstream can be used to a driver’s advantage. On every track there are a small number of specific DRS (drag reduction system) zones where, if a driver is within 1 second of someone he is chasing, he may activate a mode that opens up the rear wing of his car which will allow him to pick up even more speed to attempt to overtake.

Well-designed aero is important to an F1 team, and arguably just as important as the power of its engines. But short of body damage or a blown engine, that is a long-term battle that is sometimes decided well in the pre-season. Some teams may even “give up” and start development on next year’s car if they find themselves too far behind.

What has, however, immediate and changing impact on performance from section to section, corner to corner of a track—and is out of the hands of the cars’ designers—are its tires.

Races are won (and sometimes lost) through tire management and pit strategy, but that’s a whole other article. The next article, in fact. Read on.

How to get into Formula 1 – Part 4 – Shift!

Check out parts one, two, and three to get more Formula 1 goodness.

Race circuits are unique. They have their own personality and lend themselves to better or worse races. It’s up to the drivers to study each feature of a track, deciding on which gear to take, where they can gain precious seconds, and noting hazardous corners. At the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve in Montreal, there is a so-called Wall of Champions whose namesake came after a number of World Champions lost control and drove into it on separate occasions.

(Pexels / Carlos Santiago)

In the same way that baseball is nerdy, racing is about scouting and knowledge. Most drivers in the sport have been around long enough to know these tracks from beginning to end. There’s a scene in the 2013 movie Rush by Ron Howard, where real-life ‘70s driver James Hunt (played by Chris Hemsworth) runs through a visualization of an upcoming track from memory, hands held up in the air, wrapped around an invisible steering wheel and shift-knob, deft toes and heels pressing down on imagined gas and clutch pedals, all the while reciting the braking points and gears needed to ensure a smooth, quick line.

It’s a practiced routine—the same braking points and gear shifts won’t work for another driver, especially with the way cars may be set up. (Near a turn on a track are white braking markers with the numbers of hundreds of metres until, supposedly, the apex but it’s not precise and drivers say they pick their own braking points by visual reference anyway—a tree or something else they can see out of the corner of their vision.) Once drivers are comfortable with their cars, learning how responsive it is to their controls, it becomes an extension of their bodies.

Struggling F1 teams may be hamstrung by a weak engine, but other times it may be that one or both of their drivers might be having difficulties with their setups with steering and braking, say, if one driver is consistently qualifying high and his teammate is failing to make it out of Q1 (the first stage of the session of timed laps to determine grid position on race day).

There was drama in 2022 when eight-time Grand Prix winner (and fan favourite) Daniel Ricciardo, having jumped ship to McLaren previously, was unable to keep up with his teammate Lando Norris. Both drivers are talented and did well for McLaren in 2021, but for a team looking to be competitive and constantly be getting podium-finishes in 2022, Ricciardo’s lack of results stuck out. The media hounded him and the team after each race and at the conclusion of the season, McLaren terminated his contract early. This was unusual as most teams make seat changes after contracts end.

But in today’s F1, it’s adapt or die. Drive to survive, if you will.

Read more about Formula 1’s heavy focus on technology and what makes it so unique in part five.

How to get into Formula 1 – Part 3 – Whose Line Is It Anyway?

Part Two is just a click away if you haven’t read that first.

“Yeah, that’s my line, pal!” the streamer uttered, taking his videogame car around the corner of the videogame racetrack. In the rearview mirror, the driver he was racing with jammed on the brakes to avoid slamming into the back of his car, having been beaten to the punch. It wasn’t a dirty move, not that I understood that at the time.

(Pexels / Rezk Assaf)

Watching this older gentleman, a retiree from the United Kingdom who streamed himself playing racing games and other vehicle simulator games full-time, fascinated me. For the first time, I was hearing things like racing lines and out-braking someone. This was sometime in 2014. It sent me on a fact-finding mission on Wikipedia.

In my 20s I realized that racing has actual rules. It’s not a demolition derby styled free-for-all as I had been led to believe from pop culture and what goes viral: cars flying in the air, doing flips, ending up in walls. Accidents happen, but dangerous driving is penalized by the racing stewards which does seem antithetical to the fast and dangerous image of motorsports. It’s just marketing. Even Drive to Survive, which I mostly enjoy, is built on drama between drivers, manufactured at times like a season of The Bachelor, and those moments whenever cars come together, complete with slow motion and different camera angles.

There can only be one optimal racing line, so if more than one driver is going into a corner, they will have to pick a line. The battle is fought in the run-up to the corner. Whichever car is ahead by over half the car’s length by the time they turn has the right to that corner. This can mean drivers may try diving down the inside—sticking closer to the inside of the turn—but they may run the risk of running right into somebody who has already committed to the turn from the outside who rightfully holds the racing line. Sometimes it works, and sometimes they take themselves and others completely out of the race, possibly with frightening bodily injuries. An average Formula 1 car in 2023 costs between $12 and $15 million USD.

In the heat of wheel-to-wheel racing it’s not always so cut and dry who “got there first,” so many drivers drive with caution. Forcing somebody off the track is grounds for review and a possible penalty, so they leave a space for other drivers. Then there are some who don’t, who put their car into any gap they see and hope the other guy brakes. Some could even argue this instinct, maybe a lack of self-preservation, is the difference between a driver who is World Champion material and a driver who is not. Ayrton Senna drove with fire. While I think he sometimes goes into full-on reckless territory, Max Verstappen undoubtedly drives with fire. The man is very fast.

Read more about putting together the perfect turn, including braking zones and gear shifts in part four. I said I’m not into car culture, but gearboxes and manual transmissions are friggin’ cool. And F1 cars have eight forward gears to get them up to top speed.

How to get into Formula 1 – Part 2

Maybe check out Part One before getting into this one. Just a suggestion.

I am not really a car person. I know how to do an oil change and top off the wiper fluid. I am not into car culture. I don’t care now, and I certainly didn’t care when the other kids were obsessed with the original Need For Speed Underground—and when the Fast and the Furious movies were about petty criminals (in the first one, they heist the marvel of modern technology: DVD players).

(Pexels / Markus Spiske)

But Formula 1 cars are like spaceships compared to regular cars. The engineering behind each vehicle is top secret and drivers will even sneak glances into the cockpits of unattended cars of their rivals. It makes the news.

I first heard the term “racing line” when watching a streamer play a racing videogame, Forza Motorsport 5. Up to then, my only experience with an earlier Forza Motorsport title on the Xbox 360 had me off the track and fishtailing in the gravel pits even before the first turn. It didn’t make sense to me. Touching the gas pedal button made the car spin out. Nudging the thumbstick in any direction made the car spin out.

In real life, road cars like the ones you and I can afford and drive have driving assists: traction-control, anti-lock braking. F1 drivers get none of these. It’s up to them to wrestle 1,050 horses (for comparison, the average horsepower of a regular car is around 200-300 horsepower) into some semblance of fine control, avoiding concrete walls and each other. And sometimes they can’t.

A racing line is a line (for lack of better words, a route) that a driver takes around a track with regards to each corner. Every track has an optimal racing line which, if adhered to, should reward the driver their fastest lap.

It involves approaching a turn from the farthest edge of the track, touching the inner corner (or apex) of the turn, before smoothly coming out of it angled towards the outer edge of the curve. Doing this gives the driver the best exit, taking as much speed in and out with them. By doing this for every turn (the average number of turns in F1 per track is 17), setting the fastest laps and recording the best times, the racing line reveals itself.

(Pexels / sergio souza)

The trouble is, on race day, you have around 20 other drivers trying to do the same thing right at the start, which often makes the first corner of any Grand Prix the most exciting, most spectacular (and most crash-tastic) moment of its 300-kilometre length—unless there is some crazy wheel-to-wheel racing later on.

Then it becomes a game of chicken heading into the corner. Who brakes first?

Read more about braking and whose line it is, technically, in part three.

Black Friday at the Fido store

Fido, my cell phone carrier, is a minefield. They are hostage-takers and robber-barons. Some of this is exaggeration, but it’s rooted in truth. Everyone with a cellphone has a horror story. At the very least it’s whenever they check their monthly bill.

(Pexels / Max Fischer)

Black Friday is a period of mania that comes over the population (George A. Romero is a prophet of our time) in November, thanks to U.S. Thanksgiving. For as much willpower as we think we have, sometimes the deals are too enticing. I didn’t want to be yet another shopper stuck in a snaking line at the phone store for hours. The last time I did that was five years ago at the Fido store in Metrotown in Burnaby. There were queues in and out of the parkade then.

This time, I already had the new phone in my pocket while I stood in line. Unfortunately—and thanks to Fido—it was as good as a beautiful, fancy brick. All because of a kill-switch—a big, red button that said “do not press me.” More or less.

Some of the fault was my own, I grant you, but heed my warning: it could happen to you!

Fido was offering me last year’s (but still pretty snazzy) Google Pixel 7 for what amounted to very little change to my current contract. My phone, a Nokia 6.1, was still functional but it chugged in computing, stubborn in its old age—it worked on its own time, not yours. To the point it wasn’t worth how long it took to simply fact-check something online, over an inane conversation in a bar. I’d rather just go off my own memory and stay possibly misinformed.

Ordering the new phone online was free, whereas going into the Fido store came with a $60 setup fee. Basic math really determined the choice for me, except for the fact Fido never really wanted people to order online in the first place. After having an order cancelled, another placed, and that one cancelled yet again, I turned to speaking with a real person albeit over the phone. She placed the order for me (to nobody’s surprise, the order went through) but I was charged that $60 fee. It became apparent what kind of game we were playing here. The fact that it’s so transparent, so shameless, but there’s nothing you can do about it, is not a nice feeling.

With my new phone came an eSIM voucher, with a QR code and numbers on the back and everything, and instructions on how to change your physical SIM card to a virtual one. I followed the step-by-step instructions laid out on their website, and got to the part where it would deactivate my physical SIM. Like putting in and turning the keys to launch an ICBM from a nuclear submarine in one of those Cold War movies, it asked me to verify my identity and warned that once I pressed the button, there was no going back. That shouldn’t have been ominous. I had, what I thought, was my brand new eSIM in hand. I was embracing the future.

But it was troubling when my new Pixel 7 gave me an error message when trying to activate the Fido network by scanning the provided QR code. Can’t go backwards, and can’t go forward. I’d never broken a phone before. Never spiderwebbed a screen, or gotten a new phone out of necessity due to accident of negligence. But with a single click, I had finally done it.

I went from one perfectly adequate, working phone and its cool new replacement, to no working phone. I would need to receive verification texts from WhatsApp and Signal before I could tell all of my friends what had happened. Feeling like I was stuck in the ‘90s again was scary.

The next day, after over an hour on hold with customer support, my only recourse was to head down to the mall, brave traffic, and brave the queues—all the while knowing I would likely need to fork out the cash for a brand new SIM card. When it was my turn to go up, the person who helped me in the store sort of shrugged. It didn’t matter that the voucher for the eSIM didn’t work—effectively leading me to a dead end—and shouldn’t have even been included in the box.

It was a learning experience: if a cellphone company wants you in their store, they’ll get you in their store. I keep checking my account to see if they’re going to tack on an additional $60 for just coming near a Fido employee.