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A few nights ago, I met a boy, in a club. A very lovely boy, I might add - absolutely and positively worthy of a mere 10p text. Not only was he a newly trained doctor, and thus intrinsically sexy to a (closetly) ambitious Cambridge girl like myself, but furthermore plays in an Indie rock-soul band, grew up in an über-cool part of London, and has seriously sexy shoulders. I was a very, very happy bunny. Text me, he said. Okay, I said... I will. Despite my elation, this is a situation which other under circumstances might upset me beyond reason; on returning home and checking my balance, I discovered that I had no credit. Normally, I would have panicked, believing that this rare, stellar chance of happiness with what appeared to be the man of my dreams had eluded me, and that I was in fact doomed eternally, as hitherto expected, to the miseries of solitude, etc, etc. I am the first to accept that I am a tiny bit of a drama queen, and such inevitabilities seem evident to me at the earliest possible indication. Thus, picture the scene: there I was, lamenting over my exhausted overdraft and the wasted prospect of the love of my life slipping through my fingers, waiting only, as I imagined, for textual confirmation of my requited passion. All I can say is, THANK THE LORD FOR O2. Many do not realise, but O2 are positively generous when it comes to the world of text messaging. Many a time have I gazed miserably at my credit report, believing all to be lost... only to discover that, due to my over-enthusiasm on the topping up front last month, I have been rewarded with a highly favorable 10% reimbursement bonus, which has very pleasantly salvaged my social life on numerous occasions. And not only this, but, in addition, I often find myself on the receiving end of very pleasant little gifts. Several of my friends have been bewildered by my sudden camaraderie every 3 months or so, when I suddenly break my characteristic stinginess in order to text them at every possible opportunity, regarding every possible petty girly emergency, and have found myself showered in praise and affection... unbeknown to them that I am, in fact, acting safe in the knowledge that these little extravagances are funded by O2's "free gift" scheme - one that offers, amongst other options, a quarterly 25 free text message deal. This may seem insignificant, but it certainly is not. How many times, my impoverished fellow students, have you found yourself wondering if things could have been different, if only you had had the money to text that incredible personality who proffered their mobile number in the student union, the local, the tube station, the finance office, the bus station - anywhere? How often do you worry (albeit privately) that your poor parents back home may have given up on you and called the police to ensure that you are still alive, all because you have been unable to respond to their anxious calls for the past 18 months, preferring to save your hard-blagged student loan for the likes of the Topshop sales or Pizza Hut delivery service? Exactly. And yet, you'd be far more likely to make that sacrifice if the calls were free, now, wouldn't you? Alright, no, you wouldn't. But they don't have to know that. And it's free, after all, no doubt you'd use it for something... productive. Personally, my epiphanic moment came recently, whilst discussing mobile phone deals with my dad's girlfriend. After a few minutes of me whining about how poor I was, how I couldn't afford to call anyone, how my rent/food bill/phone costs were a blatant rip off and I was doomed to eternal destitution and starvation as a result of the commonplace financial persecutions of modern life, she looked at me carefully and said, with extreme gravity, that I should seriously consider swapping to O2. I am with O2, I replied. She looked at me again, with increased intensity. Then what are you whinging about? She said - O2 are the best out there. I looked at her as one might view a barely registered prophet on a soapbox, voicing some essential words of philosophy or religion for the first time to the inattentive masses. Yes, I said, watching her carefully, waiting for some further nuggets of wisdom. You're right - I should stop whinging. I looked up at her, enlightened and pensive, bewildered with the force of my sudden realisation. They really are, I said - the best.
Staff editor, Mobile Phones Section, January 2007 |
