nanmourinho

My is full of phone hang-UPS

NYONE who doubts the phone is now God hasn't been to Telstra's newT[life] shop. This pretentiously named megastore, on the corner ofBourke and Swanston streets, is so white and high-tech, so spaciousand surreal, that it might be a nightclub or a spaceship or somefunky modern church.

 There are white leather stools; free bottles of water and mobilephones laid out alluringly on long benches. Signs invite us to pickup a mobile and watch TV on it, or catch a movie preview or finddirections. Or we can just head straight to nirvana (the iPhone)and take in its array of options: from sharemarket news, acalculator and YouTube to maps, email and iPod.

 It's fun for a while, hanging around watching YouTube clips, untilyou start trying to decipher the typical payment plan. Spend muchlonger contemplating so many phone models and billing deals and allthose screens, sounds and sheer possibilities can be brain-numbing.

 The T[life] store is the latest, most grandiose manifestation ofour love affair with the techno-gadget. Author Douglas Coupland hasobserved that our very perception of time is now measured in techwaves rather than calendar years. He recently bumped into an oldworkmate and the pair had the following exchange: "I haven't seenyou since … eBay!" "I haven't seen you since … Google!""I haven't seen you since … BlackBerrys!"

 Now, in the iPhone epoch, the mode of content delivery can seemmore important than the actual content. The gadget itself, and thepossibilities it contains, are celebrated as a form of creativeexpression. What you do with it is another matter.

 Things are moving so fast that it becomes daunting if you fallbehind in the race. (But whose race is it? And how did I enter it?)

 Recently I became hopelessly flustered when I received a videomessage on my mobile and realised I didn't know how to open it. Ipressed some buttons, got lost, managed to find my way back to myinbox and gave up. Needless to say, I don't have an iPhone.