Life was much easier when Apple and Blackberry were just fruits. Anon.
Here is a question for the ages, particularly our present age. Do our mobile phones, or should smartphones be the correct nomenclature, have a mind of their own? We know they, the smartphones that is, can do all kinds of wondrous things at the slightest touch of our digits on their screens, apps or icons. Oftentimes, they do things we don’t even want them to do, but that is a matter for another day. For the most part however, our wish is their command. The search option is a bottomless pit which we mine endlessly for rare nuggets, knowledge, transacting business and entertainment. And to contract a bad case of Digital Eye Strain. We are constantly living in the here and now. I must know, this very nano second, what the BSE Sensex is doing. Ping! Not very well, I am afraid. 1800 points down. A pox on you Trump, and on your slavering war mongrel, Pete Hegseth. And in case he feels we are giving him the cold shoulder, let us throw Netanyahu into the mix as well.
Not to worry, tomorrow a few tramp steamers bound for India will be allowed by the Iranians to pass through the Straits of Hormuz, and the Sensex and Nifty will show their appreciation handsomely, though what they will do the following day is anybody’s guess. That will largely depend on which side of the bed Trump gets up from. But I digress. On a happier note, you can get your smartphone to play music, watch asinine film shorts, follow the cricket scores in real time, read a novel even and worry about your by-now strabismic eyes later. The point is it’s all there for you to mindlessly wallow in. Lest I forget, you can also make and receive simple calls and messages on the instrument (‘Hullo dear, I am running late. Year-end closing. Don’t wait up for me.’) So why am I concerned about my Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra Android smartphone possessing a mind of its own and acting according to its own volition, whims and fancies? Here is why.
Initially, I did not quite cotton on to this insidious trait that my too clever by half smartphone was ‘gifted’ with. It kind of crept up on me, almost unknowingly. You see, dear reader, it is one thing to pass an idle hour, and ask your handheld companion an inane question like, ‘Can I control my blood sugar without having to give up on chocolates and ice-cream?’ After which you will be flooded with an alarming number of posts on your phone providing you with instant fixes from the world of Allopathy, Ayurveda, Yoga, Homeopathy, Naturopathy, Chinese potions (lizard’s tail and rhino horn powder, anyone?) and a plethora of other solutions from all over the world. ‘We offer you a three-month trial, the first month will be free, all for just $ 99. Full refund guaranteed if you are not satisfied, less postage and administrative costs.’ Furthermore, these busybodies do not confine their curative counsel to blood sugar issues alone. Incontinence, impotence, depression, back aches, neck aches, acne, ingrowing toe nails – you name it, they have a magic potion, pill or powder to take care of your worries. You get the picture. Up to a point, I can understand this avalanche of messages, painful as it is. After all, you went in to their site and made an inquiry on pre-diabetes, and they gave you much more than you asked for. So, stop whining.
My pressing issue is to do with strange things that happen via your smartphone when you have not actually asked or searched, for anything. I can see you are foxed. So was I. Allow me to elaborate. You have just finished reading The Outsider( L’Étranger) by Albert Camus. For the second time, it must be said, because you were barely out of your teens when you ploughed through it the first time, more to impress the boys and girls in college. Reading it the second time round was more satisfying, though it is a grim tale. No, no, not Grimm’s fairy tales. Just a grim, sordid tale well told, about a bloke who kills a complete stranger for no more compelling reason than that the heat, dust and sun on a beachfront in Algiers was driving him crazy. So far so good. Now here comes the eerie part. After putting through a call to my gas agency to inquire about my cylinder delivery (another 15 days), I dive into Google on my trusty mobile to do some searching on inexpensive after shave unguents.
Guess what? The first thing that pops up on the screen bears the legend, ‘You might want to check out more novels by Albert Camus and similar authors.’ I kid you not. Followed by a long list of books by the late Nobel Laureate and a further selection by the likes of Kafka, Sartre, Bertrand Russell, Sylvia Plath and others of that existential, moody genre. This helpful information, which I did not seek, took me directly to Amazon advising me helpfully to ‘Add to cart.’ How did this happen? Am I being watched by some Big Brother type? While you’re at it, add George Orwell to that list. It sent shivers up and down my spine, I can tell you. A few minutes later, I was flooded with after shave brand choices which was on expected lines. From existential literature to after shave balms in the blink of an eye was quite a leap, but that’s the internet for you. The boffins tell me it is something to do with algorithms, AI and data points, but I am not convinced.
A few days on, my wife asked me if I had taken care of the annual household and car insurance renewals, which was due in a week’s time. A timely reminder. I thought I should revisit the terms of my existing insurance companies and trawl through a couple of other competitive options before refreshing my policies. I emphasise that all this was only swirling around in my mind space. I had not actually gone into any website to glean further information. By now, you might have divined what happened next, dear reader. I opened my mobile phone and the first thing that accosts me on the screen bears this bold lead-in, ‘Are you looking for the best deal for your car or household insurance?’ Followed by a slew of enticing information on why they are among the most dynamic insurance companies to work with. As if all this were not enough, my mobile starts ringing incessantly. ‘Good morning, Sir, I am Ashok from Fledgling Insurance Company. Your household insurance expires on blah blah date. Can I fix an appointment to come and meet you? We offer mouth-watering deals.’ Diabolical. And through the next few days, Arun from Smoothy Insurance, Afsana from Dubious Insurance and Ashish from Hole-in-the-Wall Insurance launch an unbearable assault on my time and eardrums. I resisted a strong urge to do a Google search for hearing-aids.
It has been subsequently explained to me (in words of less than three syllables) by those in the know of such matters that all this is not as macabre and ghoulish as one might experience in an Edgar Allan Poe novel. One’s mobile number is no longer a matter of zealously guarded privacy. It changes hands from party to party and before you can say ‘Press 1 for English,’ more than 5000 thousand individuals, corporates and small-time shady operators have your number, in more ways than one. And counting! Ergo, one might as well stop complaining endlessly about invasion of privacy. There is no such thing anymore. If you are into online banking, just make sure you keep changing your passwords frequently; and save or write it down somewhere, else you’re a dead goner. Not that that is any guarantee that you will not be digitally robbed blind soon thereafter. To cap it all, next time you pick up your smartphone and hear a voice over the ether saying, ‘Good evening, this is Akshata from Safety First Insurance,’ cut the line pronto and block Akshata on your instrument. She might sound seductive but you bite into that rotten apple at your own risk. Of course, that is no certitude that you won’t receive a call five minutes later from Dennis representing Desperate Insurance. Just grin and bear it.
As Frank “Ol’ Blue Eyes” Sinatra famously crooned, That’s Life.
Published with permission from Suresh Subrahmanyan – A long time advertising professional, now retired, and taken up writing as a hobby. Deeply interested in music of various genres, notably Carnatic and 60’s and 70’s pop/rock. An avid tennis and cricket fan. Voracious reader of British humour and satire. P.G. Wodehouse a perennial favourite. He blogs at – https://sureshsubrahmanyan.blog/
Suresh,
It’s all about the algorithms………😎🧐