An Emergency Meeting Between the Apps on My iPhone

Irving Ruan
Published in
4 min readSep 24, 2017


IPHONE: Hey everyone, sorry to call a meeting on such a short notice, but we need to deal with the present crisis. Irving’s been on the couch for the past seven hours. I know we’re all tired, but we have to do something.

FACEBOOK: You’re telling me. I’ve been working overtime ever since his ex broke up with him. Did you know that he scrolled through eleven years worth of photos on her profile? Nobody scrolls that far back.

TWITTER: Oh, shut up. Everything’s always about you. At least he doesn’t use you as a testing ground for his bad jokes.

IPHONE: Hey, settle down. I understand we’re all overworked, but let’s keep it civil.

NPR: If I may, I’d like to say something.

(Snickering can be heard around the room.)

IPHONE: Go ahead, NPR. This is a safe space.

NPR: If I may offer a teeny weeny suggestion, I’d like to move from page two of this folder to at least the second home screen. I think he could use some more heartwarming love stories in his life. I hope that’s OK with everyone? Please feel free to disagree!

BUZZFEED: Bro, can you speak up? It’s hard to hear you.

NPR: I said, if I may offer a teeny weeny sugg —

BUZZFEED: Anyways, what he could use are more quizzes so he can find himself. Did you know that he got Hufflepuff as his Hogwarts house nine times in a row? The kid’s still in denial.

IPHONE: I’ve overheard him on the phone mention that to his therapist. They’re working on it.

INSTAGRAM: Listen, I hate to be that guy, but I’d like to request time off. The hours are killing me. All he uses me for is to stalk his ex and post pictures of his food. And it’s always the same dish, just the usual garlic naan with chicken vindaloo.

MESSAGES: I second that. I’m getting tired of receiving delivery alerts from GrubHub every day.

SNAPCHAT: You’re all totally lame. None of you have seen what I’ve seen.

IPHONE: It’s time you share, Snapchat. You’ve been withholding sensitive information from us long enough.

SNAPCHAT: Sorry, I just forgot. Though, his score is pretty low. Nobody opens his snaps except OrcWarrior63.

IPHONE: (sighs) This is worse than I imagined.

CANDY CRUSH: I know this breaks protocol, but I’d like to delete myself from his home screen. I’m not proud of the mental damage I’ve done to him.

CHESS: (under its breath) Good riddance.

IPHONE: That’s incredibly selfless of you, Candy, but you should stay. He needs some form of mental stimulation in his life.

CHESS: Wait, are your kidding me?

(A new email notification beeps.)

MAIL: Look, I get that we’re all going through a lot, but I need to get this weight off my chest. (takes deep breath) He keeps re-reading old emails with his ex. I can’t take it anymore. This feeling is worse than managing email debates with his Dungeons and Dragons club.

IPHONE: Hey buddy, we feel you. But you’re our only gateway to him finding employment again. Speaking of, any news on that front?

MAIL: Nada, zilch, nothin’. Just automated replies that they’ve received his application and emails from his mother asking when he plans on getting married.

TINDER: See, this is why you fellas need me. Our boy’s got to have fun every once in a while.

BUMBLE: And me!

COFFEE MEETS BAGEL: Hey. What about me?

THE LEAGUE: I’m still not letting him in. I have standards.

HINGE: I’m new in town. Ladies.

OKCUPID: I was here before all of you.

(A gritty voice speaks up.)

MATCH.COM: No you weren’t.


(There is a long silence.)

IPHONE (cont’d): Jesus, I didn’t know all of you were here. This is just —


(iPhone massages its temples.)

FACEBOOK: Sorry folks, I gotta bail. He’s launching me again.

(Facebook sprints out.)

IPHONE: All right everyone, back to the crisis at hand. Just spitballing here, but maybe we can motivate him to leave his apartment by sending a notification that promises a gold medal for finishing a workout. RunKeeper, you recently told us that his last jog was five years ag —

(iPhone sees Facebook outside.)

IPHONE: My God, he’s stalking her again. (sighs) I know this will make him to throw a tantrum, but I’m tempted to just reset myself. We’re running out of options.

(Push Notification dashes into the conference room, clearly out of breath.)

PUSH NOTIFICATION: Hey guys! Sorry to interrupt, but I have an urgent message to deliver. (clears throat) “Congratulations! You have a new match!”

(Tinder smirks.)

IPHONE: Fuck it. We’re going to be here for a while.

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Irving Ruan

SF-based comedy writer. Words in The New Yorker, McSweeney’s, Funny Or Die, CollegeHumor, and elsewhere.