The Mopho Life

Phones have come a long way, haven't they? From a simple child’s cup-and-string (though I have no firsthand experience of this as my cup-and-string phones never worked) to today’s mini mobile wonders, some of which look like little more than an eraser-sized mess of buttons.

I remember my dad’s first car phone, an odd white contraption whose number started with “334”. I often wondered who called him more frequently on it – his clients or my mother. She once embarrassed him when she called him on the car phone and said, “Hello, Nut!” With him in the car at that point were three middle-aged male colleagues of his who were tickled to no end when he explained later that it was a pet name my parents had for each other.

I wonder if people still have car phones. The last time I saw one was in the movie Bowfinger when Steve Martin’s character embarrassed himself when he ripped out a car phone and pretended it was a mobile phone, during which time the wire slipped out of his sleeve and dangled tellingly from the phone. Maybe that’s all car phones are good for – embarrassing people.

I’d resisted getting a mobile phone as long as I could. (Can I call it a “mopho”? I’ve always wanted to do that…nah, will stick to “handphone” like the rest of Singapore.) I was happily using a pager for a few years, trying not to succumb to my mother’s pressure for me to start using a mobile phone, as I had an accurate guess as to who would be the one calling me most frequently. I don’t remember why I finally caved in and got my first – a Nokia 3210, or The Brick, as some people called it. Not that it was very big, but it was heavy. Still, it was a good, hardy phone that lasted almost four years before number 5 on the keypad called it quits.

We all have many stories revolving around mobile phones. Here are some of the memorable ones I have, in no particular order.

Go BEEP yourself, preferably in front of the client

I had a colleague called Cynthia for awhile, an unpleasant person who had a talent, among others, for finding fault with everyone and everything around her and bitching (not complaining, bitching) about it vehemently. She also had an awful attitude to working with others.

One group of clients comprised a committee of ten people or so, so our meetings usually had a total of 13 people, including my boss, Cynthia and myself. During one particular meeting:

1) Her handphone rang loudly and she took the call in the meeting room. I assumed it was an important call, like from a supplier, until I heard her accent change dramatically and figured it was her British boyfriend.

2) Awhile after that phonecall, a message arrived on her phone with a loud BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP, and she proceeded to reply it…while ignoring the proceedings of the meeting, and then later asking me what happened (trying talking to someone who’s trying to take minutes for a fast-paced meeting and you’ll have an idea how I felt). Not wanting to interrupt the client, I motioned for her to turn off her phone, to which she just grinned humourlessly, and then did nothing.

3) Her phone goes BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP again, and she replied it again. Assuming that she hadn’t understood me earlier, I wrote on a piece of paper, “Turn off your phone” and showed it to her. She took one look at it, and pointedly turned away from me and the piece of paper.

Lovely person, isn’t she?

Told you my mother would call

This is a scenario that would happen up to a few times a week when I was working full-time.

I would be at my desk most of the working day, getting up only to get a drink. And then, at some point, I would decide to visit the ladies for ichiban business. Upon returning to my desk after all of two minutes in the loo, I would see a missed call on my handphone. Yes, my mother. I would return her call, to which she’d say, “Where were you??!! Oh, the toilet? Why are you always in the toilet?” I swear, within weeks of joining whichever company I’m at, all my colleagues know about my mum, and most would have picked up her calls to the office after failing to reach me on my handphone.

Mothership calling

Sorry, this is a mother story again. Some background here. My previous house had two storeys, and since my mum chose to spend most of her time in her upstairs bedroom, she had to either shout to get our attention, or find some other means. And some other means she did find. First was a loud remote beeping system that could be activated with two devices, one of which she kept in her room, the other in her car. She developed a system of beeps for different members of the household: quick, repeated beeps for the maid; a single beep for my sister; slow, repeated beeps for me. Later, she tried using an intercom system to communicate between rooms.

After moving into an apartment, we figured she wouldn't need any such devices. Wrong again. There’s a very loud device in the dining room that plays Für Elise in a doorbell-like tone, and the volume is enough to startle me from within my room. That’s for her to call the maid.

And as for me…she calls my handphone. From two rooms away. So, dear friends, if you’re ever with me in my house and see that I’m receiving a mobile call from my home phone, don’t worry, no one in my family is insane. My mother’s just trying to intercom me.

Wait…just as you are thinking that I find mobile phones the bane of civilised society…I’d say you’re right. But, like many an idiotic loony, it has its redeeming qualities sometimes.

“I love you”

…is all I need to see to make me smile from the inside out, even if it’s just an SMS.