(Or, Why My Canon is Pouting)
The request came down, as these things always do, with the subtle grace of a rogue elephant: an office trip. “Team building,” they called it. A chance to “forge bonds” outside the soul-crushing confines of fluorescent lighting and spreadsheet-induced despair.
My stomach, sensing imminent peril (specifically, in the form of organised fun), executed a gentle flip. The last time we went on one of these excursions, I had carried all my photography equipment with me all the way to Goa only to spend all day stuck at a 5 star hotel with clients in the boardroom.
Then came the question, inevitable and dread-inducing: the gear. The Canon. The trinity of lenses. The tripod. The filters. The back brace required to carry it all. The sigh that escaped me could have powered a small wind farm.
It was then that a thought, as rare and precious as a well-behaved child, struck me. A thought so audacious, so utterly un-photographic, that I almost looked around to see if anyone had witnessed my temporary insanity.
Why not just use my phone?
A collective gasp, unheard by all but the phantom voices of photography snobs past and present, surely echoed. The very idea! To abandon my trusty, expensive, pro gear for a device primarily used for sending vaguely judgemental WhatsApp messages and doom-scrolling before bed? It was anarchy. It was heresy.
And it was glorious.
So, I packed. Not the multi-compartment monster of a camera bag, but my pockets. One pocket for the phone. One pocket for, well, nothing, because what else does one need? The sheer lack of preparation was intoxicating.
The trip commenced. There were speeches. There was awkward laughter. There were meetings and sessions. And there was lots of rain.
I spent the day observing. It’s remarkable how much more one observes when not viewed through the prism of an ultra wide angle lens, praying for that perfect composition while simultaneously praying the battery doesn’t die. I was free. I was agile. I was, dare I say it, almost enjoying myself.
I took a few pictures. I took a walk in the rain. Went to a few beaches. The phone, a marvel of modern procrastination technology, was always ready. Point, tap, click.
The photos were good enough. Good enough for a quick blog post about how I successfully avoided a herniated disc while still documenting the banal reality of corporate bonding. Good enough to make me seriously reconsider the necessity of carrying five kilos of glass and metal around my neck.
The Canon is currently sulking in its case, giving me the silent treatment.
But for now, the phone will do. It’s light, it’s efficient, and it’s remarkably adept at taking pictures that are just, well, good enough. And sometimes, when faced with the mild inconvenience of an office trip, that is precisely the kind of photograph one truly needs. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe there’s a particularly interesting patch of paint drying on the wall that needs documenting. Tap. Click. Perfection.
