Electric Josh

Friday, June 14, 2002

Telephone loathing

After years of resisting, I have a cell phone. But it's much more than a phone, and in striving to be a superphone---an uber-phone, an ultracommunicator---it ends up just being a really crappy phone.

The truth, of course, is that it's a computer. You don't turn it on---you boot it. Booting the phone takes upwards of ten seconds, so I've changed the startup message to Very slowly booting. Eventually, one types in the number; hits Talk; waits through several seconds of beeping and booping; ignores the fact that the beeping and booping sounds are different every call; and waits not for, "Hello?," but, "----o?". When the connection is finally made, the sound quality is bad. Syllables are skipped. One hears static noises reminiscent of CB radios. Occasionally the call ends spontaneously. Congratulations: you've been billed up to the nearest minute. Who knows if you've just fed your head the beginnings of a tumor?

A real, wall-mounted phone is on from the instant I put the handset to my ear. Even the faded, beige, rotary-dial phone circa 1960 that sits in my kitchen is totally brainless: pick up phone, hear dialtone---not complicated. The handset fits perfectly between my ear and my mouth. By leaning my head over slightly, I can almost effortlessly hold the phone with my shoulder and still use both hands for whatever else. The cellphone, including the antenna, reaches from my ear to somewhere my cheek. I don't need to be in touch that badly.

And I really hate being on the phone. #