For Whom the Bell Tolls

Ladies and gentlemen: sit comfortably and be prepared for a shock.
Tomorrow, I will do something I never imagined I would do.
I will force myself to cross the threshold of one of those horrible, negative-vibe infested stores that have sprung up like ugly wild mushrooms these past few years, and I will purchase...
a mobile phone.


What has happened? I hear you cry.
Well, let's summarise.
In the case of "Western Consumerist Society versus Shirley B.", it would appear that Western Consumerist Society has won.
But let it be known that Shirley B. did not go down without a fight.

For years, even as friends, family, pensioners, kids and the rest of the human race began swarming like flies towards the cow-pat of telecommunications, I resisted.
I stood tall, principled and defiant: I firmy and utterly believed (believe) that mobile phones are unnecessary. Unnecessary, over-used and one of the main culprits behind the decline in common courtesy. They render their slaves child-like and incapable of those two un-glamourous skills I vaue so greatly: Forward Planning and Organisation.
Their use at the wheel makes me froth at the mouth.
Their ubiquitous presence, the drug-like power they seem to assert on their poor, addicted owners, who caress and stroke and gaze at them at every opportunity - even in the company of others - makes me cringe.

But you know all that.
Let's move on to the more interesting part: why I have conceded defeat.
Well, ladies and gentleman, despite all my misgivings (nay, disgust), it has over the past few weeks become apparent to me that I can no longer aspire to play a full role in society without possessing - moi aussi - one of these vicious little objects.
We phoneless are being gradually pushed out of existence: gone are the handy payphones on every corner... gone are the people who know how to fix a meeting 3 days in advance, and stick to it.
I have finally had my fill: sick and tired of pitching up at the allotted place and time, only to find that the person I've come to meet has changed the place, or the time, or whatever... but hasn't been able to get in touch to tell me.
And yes, folks, the pendulum has swung so far that these missed meetings are now actually considered to be MY FAULT. My fault, because I don't possess a mobile, of course.
People - all people - even nice people, even professional people - do not plan anymore.
We live in a spur-of-the-moment, wait-and-see-if-something-better-comes-along kind of society... in which it is vital to be able to receive text messages.

So here I go.
Faced with the serious threat of becoming friend-less and forgotten, I have opted to take the plunge.
And yes, I do know what's going to happen.
Us latter day converts are - laughably, ridiculously - condemned to be the most addicted of all.
We are the born-again Christians of the mobile revolution!
I doubt that me and my new communication tool will ever be separated.

So budge up and make some room for me on that bandwaggon.

Anyone want my number??

Photo taken August 2007