Living in a cellular world

Three months ago, I caved in and bought something I used to openly ridicule and abhor and now regret having: a cell phone. I first became acquainted with cell phone culture while studying abroad in Europe, where it's more likely to see an eight-year-old kid talking on a cell phone than riding a bike.

Last December, before I left for Europe, about half of my friends had cells. To my astonishment, when I returned to the states a short seven months later, virtually everybody I knew had cell phones. It was impossible to walk down the street without seeing at least a dozen people, be they grandparents, infants, or Luddites, talking on cell phones. I even saw David West, the kid from my high school who grew up without a TV in his house, mindlessly chattering away. He was always a little different, and at first I thought he was talking to himself. Only later did I realize that he was speaking into a headset dangling from his ear.

Not wanting to be left out and unable to resist free long distance and free nights (after 9:00 p.m.) and weekends, I called Zerivon (Note: the name of the company has been changed to protect its identity) and caught the caboose of the cell phone bandwagon.

I finally got a real person, or at least a phone operator, on the line after spending 17 minutes weaving my way through an "easier to use" and "newly updated" automated answering service.

"Hello, thank you for calling Zerivon. My name is Joey McIntyre, how may I help you today?"

"What did you say your name was?" I asked, my eyebrows slanted downward towards my nose and an inquisitive upon my face.

"No, sir, I was not in New Kids on the Block," he sighed. "And, yes, my name really is Joey McIntyre."

"Oh, no," I quickly replied. "That's not what I was implying at all. It's just that...yeah. Anyway, I was hoping to find out more about your phones."

"Ok, sir, do you know what model you're interested in?"

"Yes, I was looking at the Zerivon LG510, but I'm not sure if it has, hmm, how should I put this... the right stuff? I just don't know if I'd be happy with the LG510. Maybe I should slow down and take things step-by-step."

"Haha, very funny, sir. That's the first time I've ever heard that one," he sarcastically retorted.

At that point, he did the unthinkable; the cruelest thing a telephone operator can do to another person: he put me back on hold. Having no interest in spending the remainder of the day listening to lounge music, I hung up.

Before calling back, I did some in-depth research on all of Zerivon's different phones. The variety available was impressive to say the least. They had everything from the quarter-sized Derek Zoolander phone to the combat boot-sized Zack Morris phone. In the end, I decided to stick with my first instinct and get the LG510, a basic flip phone.

I called the next day, successfully avoiding my favorite NKOTB operator, and had little trouble ordering my phone. I had originally seen the phone advertised on-line for $149.99 with a $50 mail-in-rebate. But when I received my phone, the bill was substantially higher than $99.99. I called Zerivon to inquire about the charges. They informed me for the first time about an extra $30 charge for only getting a one-year plan, a $30 activation fee, and an obscenely large amount of local, county, state, regional, federal, continental, intercontinental, and intergalactic taxes. After all of the add-ons, the price had shot up to over $200.

Just before he hung up, the customer service representative also told me never to call back complaining about my bill. "Zerivon is always right. No matter how much information we withhold from you, you're contract still obligates you to pay us! Hahaha!" he demonically chuckled as he slammed down the receiver.

I had just learned lesson number one of cell phone culture: from the get-go, accept that you're going to get screwed by your service provider. The sooner you can internalize this, the happier and less high-strung you'll be.

I was also forced to learn lesson two of cell phone culture _ don't forget to turn your ringer off _ the hard way. During the first week of classes I walked into Cohen Auditorium at 9:30 in the morning to find out that class had begun five minutes ago. Unable to comprehend why class would begin at 9:25 instead of 9:30, I tried to discreetly grab a seat in the back. No luck.

The entire back row was already filled with snoring, mouth wide-open students, drooling all over their neighbors. In fact, almost every seat in the whole auditorium was taken. So, I put my head down and tried to discreetly sneak down to an empty seat in the front row. Luckily, the professor was glued to the board, writing away, and had not noticed me.

But, just as I was about to sit down, it happened. My cell phone, once quietly concealed in my pocket, began screeching louder than a dorm fire alarm. As I fumbled around trying to put an end to the piercing noise, I noticed that absolutely everybody was looking at me. I was conspicuous because of my late arrival and also because of my distinctive ring, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles theme song. From what I could tell, only one other kid in the class had the same ring, and he had violently jerked out of his stupor and had began to scavenge through his bag.

These two unpleasant cell phone experiences are just the tip of the iceberg. I could go on for hours about the ills of owning a cell phone. The $40-$50 a month bill, unreliable reception, roaming fees, and high-intensity radiation are a few more of the major qualms I have with cells.

When my contract expires next August, I doubt that I will renew it. I would like to invite all cell phone advocates and enthusiasts to change my mind and convince me otherwise. You can do so by giving me a call on my phone: just make sure it's after 9:00 p.m.