To good looks, sex appeal, and personality.
The object of my affection goes by the name of Nokia 6300. Okay, I know that a couple of weeks ago I wrote about being the proud owner (rather retainer or brand custodian of a Nokia 1100 of truck driver fame), but I have been feeling strangely renewed in the past few weeks and may be this is a part of that phase.
Two days prior, I also bought new glares, but that was only in response to my old ones breaking in the struggle to get out of my hair.
Of course the seduction took a while. Almost everyone surrounding me was constantly flashing their beauties with their mega pixels…and their N series and chocolates and razrs (me, the gizmo bumpkin wouldn’t even know what they meant, had I not done time at a Men’s magazine which had an enviable gadget section).
Anyway, they all passed on like random strangers trying to hit on you, and I remained unfazed by their charm.
Till I overheard a female colleague gushing about her latest acquisition, proclaiming it as the best phone in the market. Now this woman has taste, so I will trust her to pick something elegant. She also has something that means business about her, something very alpha, so I would trust her rational mind and discount sentimentality.
Plus she clearly gave me three good reasons to acquire it—looks, dependability and sensibility. Off I went shopping the same evening.
A new phone is like a new relationship—you are so sensitive to its texture, its secrets, how it responds to you, and how sensitized you are to its every move; it’s like discovering something new everyday. And not about devouring all of it in one day, which ideally, one can do if one reads the manual (ha!).
But there is something nice about being surprised. When it doesn’t do what you think it will do—like refusing to go into redial mode like my earlier model with just one move would do, or saying “message saved for sending” and actually sending it!
Now, someone from Nokia better take note of this –exactly what does this statement mean—what is my phone trying to tell me? That ‘I will consider whether this message will be sent or otherwise,’ or that ‘I will save now to send later, or just that ‘You are in queue,’ or ‘Wait, let me do a reference check on your recipients’ …It’s one thing to hold a sleek, sexy thing in hand. It’s quite another to not know what it is up to.
The fact remains that three days later, I am still suitably intrigued by my tech-toy. For someone with the attention span of a fruit-fly, that says a lot. And it still hasn’t hit me that 2 mega pixels is a big deal. Or that a full-screen camera is a desirable thing.
I must say that I am less nervous about using it, even though my heart still skips a beat when it rings, so much so that I have permanently put it on silent mode—it was one of the earliest things I figured out, and wouldn’t it be nice if we could figure out a silent mode for everyone around us?
Ok, there I go again, complaining about information overdose and sounding like a mendicant or some art-of-giving-or-living-or-whatever-it-is-practitioner.
I am neither of the above, and I can never be, unless someone figures how to get me into silent mode