December 13, 2006

Programming a Cell Phone – The Agony and The Ecstasy

In last week’s column, we talked about how my wife and I picked out new cell phones. As I’m sure you recall, this was a process only slightly more complicated than planning and executing a space shuttle launch.

The real fun began after we got home. At the store, the cell phone guy had shown us how to set up and personalize our new phones with quick, confident keystrokes, ending the demonstration with the sanguine instruction, “You just follow the menus – it’s simple.”

So we sat down in our living room with our new phones, fully believing that we would spend no more than an hour or so unleashing all the powerful features that have become essential to modern communications; caller ID, call timers, global 911 tracking and customized ring tones can that make your phone sound like a Munchkin belching the “Star Spangled Banner”.

You know, you would think that by this point in my life I would have learned that hearing the word “simple” pretty much guarantees that whatever it refers to is not. We spent the next three days sitting side by side on the couch, generating a steady chorus of clicks, beeps and the occasional Munchkin belch, breaking only for a few sips of water or a granola bar. Finally my wife dropped her phone on the coffee table in despair and croaked, “Have you figured out how to set the screen-saver?”

“No,” I replied, “but don’t worry about that right now. I think I just accidentally deactivated our account and triggered an invasion of Syria.”

It seems that the cell phone guy had neglected to mention that there were over 1,100 menus for us to “just follow.” To complicate things, each menu seemed to be slightly different depending on which other menu we were coming from, the overall context of the situation and how we were holding our mouths at the time.

Of course, the phones had come with complete documentation. There was a “Quick Start Guide” which consisted of a diagram identifying a few important parts of the phone like “Send Key” and “Hinge,” followed by a 12-page advertisement for purchasing music and videos from the cell phone company. The full “User’s Manual” consisted of the same diagram followed by a 64-page advertisement for purchasing music and videos from the cell phone company.

There was also a CD-ROM “Help Disc” that ran in the computer and presented us with a 27-minute advertisement for purchasing music and videos from the cell phone company.

The documentation may not have been very helpful, but it was pretty fun to read. It had apparently been written in Japanese then translated into English by somebody who had, at best, a vague grasp of either language. Or possibly by Yoda.

“If not working your phone is, press and hold the red button you must.”

A week or so later our son dropped in for a visit. He found us still sitting dazed in the living room, muttering things like, “Phone not in 1x-EVDO coverage area – PPP session active,” and repeatedly trying to test-call each other.

In less than 10 minutes he had both phones making and receiving calls; he had our names displayed in banners on the little screens over languid pastoral scenery; he had our directory and speed dial settings organized; and he had my GPS feature enabled, so I had only to push a button to hear a pleasant feminine voice telling me, “Your destination, the bathroom, is four paces ahead… three… two… one… Turn Left Now! He even got rid of the ring tone that I had my phone stuck on, which was apparently a recording of a moose giving birth to a tractor.

I’m just hoping we can get him to come home for the holidays; by then I’ll need to check my voice mail.

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