Meetings with architects made Chris Glionna especially nervous.
That was when the director of operations for Aquitaine Group, the chic Boston restaurant chain, kept his clunky old Sanyo cellphone hidden in his bag for fear of chortles and stares.
The bulky, blue rubber phone had served him well for five years.
But Glionna, who oversees five restaurants, worried that his old phone was sending the wrong message.
“People who worked with me were saying ‘Dude, what’s with the paperweight? That’s so 1985,’ ” said the 43-year-old Glionna. “I even had (vendors) laugh at me.”
Seeing more of his colleagues upgrade to sleek new smart phones — the name applied to iPhones, BlackBerries, and others that connect to the Internet — Glionna had had enough of phone shame. He bought a BlackBerry in September.
“In the end, I honestly thought the phone was hurting me. I’m not an insecure person, but I was really insecure about my phone.”
As the number of people carrying smart phones climbs, those with antiquated mobiles are feeling a creeping sense of embarrassment over their late conversion to new technology.
According to the Consumer Electronics Association, the number of iPhones, BlackBerries and other smart phones has nearly tripled in the past year. In July 2007, only 8 percent of Americans owned smart phones. By July of this year, that number had soared to 22 percent. A spokesman for the CEA says that percentage should continue to climb with September’s release of another high-profile techie tool — the much-coveted Google G1 phone.
“You can tell a lot about a person by the kind of phone they carry,” says image consultant Doris Klietmann. “If you have someone with a BlackBerry, you can usually assume they’re educated and they either earn a good salary or they have an important job that requires them to be in constant communication. You can also assume that someone with a 16-gigabyte iPhone also makes a decent amount of money and is someone who always has to have the newest thing. People who have these phones are conscious of things like fashion designers and like to stay on top of trends.”
Increasingly, the type of cellphone we chat on or text with says as much about us as the way we dress or the car we drive, according to CNET senior editor Kent German.
“The cellphone is different from most other pieces of technology because it’s something you use all the time and carry with you everywhere you go,” says German, on the phone from his office in San Francisco. (For the record, German’s currently testing a Sony-Ericsson C902, which isn’t available in the United States). “It’s really an extension of your personality and style, unlike a camera or a computer. That’s why you have the kiosks in the mall where you can get the plates, charms and all those phone accessories.”
No longer boxy and saddled with retractable antennae, mobile phones have increasingly emerged as personal signifiers and status symbols, separating the early adopters from the technophobes, Mac users from PC fans, the flashy and fashion-forward from the practical and low-key.
The first tingle of phone shame could be traced back to the 1987 film “Wall Street,” when actor Michael Douglas wielded a mammoth cellphone on a breezy beach, and moviegoers went home and looked at their old reliable land lines with scorn. But technology trend watchers say the proliferation of smartphones has turned phone shame into an epidemic.
“A lot of gadgets these days have become more of a style or status symbol,” said Steve Kidera of the CEA. “Look at TVs. It used to be that people would hide them in the armoires. But now they’re prominently displayed like art.” Now, “an iPhone is like the Rolex of phones,” he continued. “You want people to see you on your iPhone or your BlackBerry to show your status.”
Caitlin Gallagher, a 32-year-old writer from Cambridge, Mass., found out the hard way how phones can be an extension of your style — or lack thereof.
When she renewed her cell service contract last spring, she opted for the cheapest phone available. Ever since then, her giant Samsung phone has become the butt of jokes among her friends.
“My friend’s 65-year-old dad just got the same phone as mine,” Gallagher says. “It’s basically the least cool phone you could own. My friend Greg told me that my phone is so big that I don’t actually need to call anyone on it. He said I can just tap people with it from three states away.”
Gallagher said her phone is so large that most people are too polite to make fun of it in front of her, but she suspects that they are enjoying a hearty laugh at her expense when she exits the room.
Making matters worse, nearly all of her college friends from MIT now sport iPhones. And even when Gallagher isn’t with them, Facebook reminds her of their sleek phones by informing her who’s added the Facebook application on their iPhone.
If phone shame’s painful for adults, it’s dire for tweens and teens who’ve been weaned on the Internet.
For some middle schoolers, not having a smart phone isn’t just uncool, it’s horribly inconvenient, since their communication often revolves around texting and e-mail. Seventh- grader Sarah Greene of Boston’s Jamaica Plain neighborhood says she’s so embarrassed by her cellphone that she leaves it home when she goes to school.
“It’s really not that cool,” the 12-year-old says of her phone. “It’s one of those durable ones, and it doesn’t have a type pad on it. It’s kind of old-fashioned.”
Greene has made a habit of asking her mother, Eleanor, for a smart phone.
Eleanor Greene reports that a cooler phone is “the No. 1 item on Sarah’s Christmas list, which I’ve already gotten.”
“It’s sometimes used as a negotiating tool,” the elder Greene says.
“She’ll say ‘Mom, if I get straight A’s, can I upgrade my phone?’ I always roll my eyes and don’t give a straight answer.
“You know, hold her off as long as I can. It’s what mothers do best.”
If your phone could talk
By barking loudly into cellphones in public settings, people reveal personal details every day (yes, we’re talking to you, supermarket cellphone screamer). But even low talkers divulge hints about themselves simply by taking out their phone. So what does your mobile say about you? Funny you should ask.
iPhone: You’re an architect, science nerd, graphic designer, or someone who has way too much time to fiddle with the many applications that become available every day. Owners apologize for pulling out their iPhone every time you ask a question, but secretly delight in the fact that they can Google the answer.
The G1: Google’s first phone rolled out in September and is still finding a home in messenger bags and man purses around the country. But based on its features, we predict that hip PC users (yes, they do exist), hard-core texters and neatniks who prefer a roller ball to a smudgy touch screen will flock to the device.
Expect to see the G1 in a holster on the belt of your company’s computer guy this Christmas.
The BlackBerry: The smartphone preferred by financial professionals, government officials, party planners and those who didn’t quite complete their 12-step program for e-mail addiction. While the iPhone is favored by people who wear jeans and Pumas to work, BlackBerry users can’t quit their khakis.
The Razr: We’ll admit it, 2005 was a great year. The Patriots won the Super Bowl, Disneyland celebrated its 50th anniversary, and “Arrested Development” was still on the air. But time has not been as kind to 2005’s top fashion phone, the Razr. Once the phone used by the uber-fashionable, it’s now favored by clerks at Claire’s, those who refuse to change “Gold Digger” as their ring tone and folks who are still quoting Paris Hilton catchphrases.
The Sidekick: Perfect for the nimble-fingered teen who can’t stop texting, the Sidekick is the preferred means of communication among high school students, rappers, pop stars, gentlemen in the throes of a midlife crisis, or anyone who has a hard time spelling out “be right back” or “too busy for you cutie.”
Bluetooth headset: We’re aware it’s not a phone, but Bluetooth has a demographic all its own, namely those who think, “My ideas are so important, I need to keep this wacky silver thing in my ear at all times in case I feel the need to share my wisdom.”
Christopher Muther, The Boston Globe
