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A few months ago, three of my fellow venture capitalists and I rushed out of a board meeting for one of the companies in our portfolio and hopped in a cab. As usual – and because each of us reveled in our self-importance – we all slipped Nokia 6160 cell phones out of our pockets.
I remember looking around the cab, noting the absurdity of four people traveling together, each one of us talking to someone hundreds of miles away. Then I glanced at the driver. I think he had a StarTAC. Need I say more?
At about the same time, New York City decided to honor arguably the best baseball team ever, the '98 Yankees. It was thrilling to watch future Hall of Famers such as Derek Jeter make their way up Broadway amid a blizzard of toilet paper and shredded documents.
Among the luminaries in the parade were two politicians: state comptroller Carl McCall and public advocate Mark Green. As my pin-striped heroes reveled in the cheers of millions, the TV camera zoomed in on the two pols. Yup. Both were talking on their cell phones. Is nothing sacred?
How did this cell-phone-yapping, pants-pocket-vibrating, wireless mania come to dominate our lives?
My cell phone tales are legion. I remember one conference call in particular. I was working on a deal and we needed to talk with all of the principals and their attorneys. My phone, a landline, rang at 7:30 a.m. Everyone was there. About two hours later, one of the attorneys had to, um, leave. He had been on his cell phone, lying on a gurney, awaiting an MRI.
The worst victimizer – and victim – of the wireless gestalt is Brad Feld. Known by some as the high priest of Colorado venture capital, Brad is the gadget deity to whom I pray. Ever logical, he moved to Colorado not only to live amid the natural splendor of Eldorado Canyon but also because he could just as easily fly to the West Coast as the East. Brad was the first person I know to have multiple cell phones (a Sony D-Wave Zuma and a Qualcomm Q), taking advantage of his 617 phone when traveling east and his 415 phone when out west. I'm not even sure Brad has a landline.
But this need to remain connected has drawbacks. Brad once accidentally called me from a restaurant. I was home, busy programming my latest cell phone, when the landline rang. "Hello," I said. No answer. "Hello?" I repeated, and I heard the clink of utensils on china. "Hello?!" Nothing. And then a voice: "So, after MIT, Feld Technologies was off and running and I began to meet with GE Capital." Hey, it's Brad Feld! "Brad!" I shouted. "Brad, can you hear me?" No reply.
I hung up the phone. Then I picked it up: "And the best strategy for a roll-up is -" I hung up the phone. I picked it back up, "Of course, valuations will have to come down."
Brad's a pretty unique case, but my favorite victims are those who've combined their addictions. You know, the pager goes off when there's a voicemail message on the cell phone. Or the Pilot has a paging card. The cell phone gets pages, but they pack a pager anyway – "just in case." All right, I'm one of these universal messagers. I have a cell phone that can receive pages (even emailed pages), and I carry a pager and a laptop.
I suppose the thing to do would be to get one of those automated services, Wildfire or General Magic's Portico. But my first real encounter with Wildfire was disconcerting.
It was December 1996, cold and snowy. I tromped through the streets of Manhattan to the offices of General Internet to meet Scott Kurnit and hear his vision for "taking back the Net." He was about to launch The Mining Co., an interesting idea that my firm ultimately passed on.
Anyway, as Scott paced excitedly around a cramped office, his phone – a StarTAC – began ringing incessantly. Without breaking stride, he slipped the phone off his belt, flipped it open, flipped it shut, and slipped it back on his belt. The phone rang again. He unholstered and reholstered a second time. It rang, and he repeated the dance. After five or six times, I stopped him and pointed at his phone. "Oh, this?" he said. "It's Wildfire trying to reach me."
Wildfire aside, at the very least Scott deserves credit for owning a StarTAC, which was the first status symbol in the battle for cell superiority. Indeed, with its palm-sized shape and a flip cover out of Star Trek, the StarTAC was a must-have. Of course, within six months it was passé, surpassed by other tiny phones with better services. And now Motorola is back with its new minuscule V Series phones.
I remember the first time I took my Nokia 6160 out of my pocket and placed it on the table at the start of a meeting. Everyone at the table turned and stared.
"Um … is that a PCS phone?" asked a nervous entrepreneur.
Mind you, this guy was two weeks away from running out of cash, and the meeting was his last chance to save his company. But he couldn't ignore that most basic modern emotion: gadget envy.
Cell phone jealousy borders on the absurd. And nothing, nothing, is worse than taking out your new toy, expecting "oohhh"s and "ahhh"s, only to be bested by the person who whips out an even smaller, lighter, sleeker, cooler piece. Your only recourse, as you sink into your chair, is to surreptitiously send a two-way page to your assistant to run out and buy you the latest and greatest cell phone.
But when it comes down to it, jealousy is the nicer cousin of a baser condition: total dependency.
I'm as hooked as anyone. I got this writing assignment because my partner Fred Wilson and I happened to argue over a cell phone battery (we have the same phones) in front of a Wired editor. There we were, in the pressroom at Internet World, almost coming to blows over a little more airtime. It made for an amusing spectacle – though Fred might not have thought so if he'd known about the extra, fully charged battery stashed in my briefcase.
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Cell phones, like sports cars, are high-performance status symbols – sleek lines are as important as what's under the hood. One look makes it screechingly clear, for example, why Motorola's now vintage StarTAC is called the Porsche 911 of the cellular world. Ironically, muscle mass and sex appeal are inversely related when it comes to mobile communications – this is one pissing contest where everyone wants to prove theirs is smallest.
Of course, there are plenty of options to ponder before you hit the road. The seasoned traveler will consider an extended-life battery, socket recharger, or hands-free car kit pure necessities, equivalent to air bags or antilock brakes. Luxury extras range from a rawhide carrying case to a tiny Jabra earset (left), which doubles as an earpiece and a microphone. These days, you can even drop a roadblock in front of the competition: The WaveWall jamming device, made in Japan by Medic, stops transmission of wireless calls within a 20-foot diameter.
With all that in mind, we took today's top digital phones for a test drive. Here's Wired's evaluation of what makes them run-of-the-mill or king of the road.
Motorola V Series GSM 1900 If the StarTAC is a 911, then the V Series is a Boxster. About the size of a Wrigley's gum PlenTpak, the V Series is available in both analog and GSM varieties. And Motorola's signature clamshell design makes this communicator easy on the ear and the mouth.
$500-700, www.mot.com/GSS/CSG/.
Nokia 6190 Breaking ranks with the standard business-black dress code, Nokia also offers three snappy theme colors – Ocean (blue-green), Earth (eggplant), and Sky (silver). Ease of hues aside, the Nokia 6190 (shown with a separate hands-free kit) looks like a common cordless phone. Still, not every cordless comes with three videogames, a calendar, a calculator, and a currency converter.
$179, www.nokia.com/.
Philips Trapeze/Accent This GSM cell phone slips into a holder that doubles as a PDA – providing organizer apps, Web browsing, and email. Unfortunately, the combination is not as convenient as it sounds: The phone is molded into the uncomfortable shape of its caddy. Plus, the touchscreen on the back of the cradle is difficult to navigate, making it tricky to compose messages or surf Web sites.
$449, www.pcc.philips.com/.
Qualcomm dual-mode Q Dual-mode – which lets you roam between digital and analog networks – is the way to go for the seriously on-the-go professional. The Q phone looks like a slightly bulkier StarTAC (so similar, in fact, that Motorola sued Qualcomm over the design). But the combo analog and CDMA digital dialer makes up for its added girth with extra roaming stamina, an internal antenna, and a comfortable shape.
$299, www.qualcomm.com/.
Samsung SCH-2000 At first glance the SCH-2000 is a tad unremarkable: Slim but not exceptionally small, it has a flipdown lid that doesn't quite cover the Talk button, so it's easy to activate inadvertently. But there's one truly ear-catching feature: Voice dial allows you to say "Snow level" instead of dialing your favorite ski resort – handy while you're driving, and impressive in the boardroom.
$179, www.samsungtelecom.com/.
Nokia 9000i The Nokia 9000i flips open to reveal a miniature keyboard and screen. But, as with the Trapeze, the "convenience" of two-in-one is outweighed, literally, by sheer bulk. If you need to compute on the go, you're better off getting an ultracompact laptop with a wireless modem.
$799, www.nokia.com/.
Qualcomm pdQ A PalmPilot and a cell phone in one, the forthcoming pdQ is the most viable of the convergent phone-cum-PDA devices. While it's a good getup for a mobile exec, this isn't the dialer you'd want in your pocket when you head out to a nightclub – unless you want people to think you're really glad to see them.
Estimated price, $500-1,000, www.qualcomm.com/.
Ericsson KF 788 This model has an understated elegance, featuring muted colors, a nub for an antenna, and a flipdown lid. But the handsome devil is also built to roam: It's a dual-mode phone that works on both analog (AMPS) and digital (D-AMPS) networks.
$299, www.ericsson.com
Sony D-Wave Zuma This PCS phone is roughly as big as a pack of cigs. The menus are easy to navigate, thanks to the jog dial. But the flipdown microphone and the extendable antenna are flimsy, and a lid that covers the touchpad would be nice.
$199, www.sel.sony.com/SEL/wtc/.
Nextel i1000 The i1000 takes the prize for most resembling a Star Trek communicator – though Kirk would never have put up with the fragile extendable antenna. The big payoff, however, comes from Nextel's proprietary national digital network – the phone's Direct Connect feature, for example, turns your cell into a long-range walkie-talkie.
$299, www.nextel.com/.
The Networks AMPS Advanced Mobile Phone System, the analog network used in the United States. Due to its ubiquity, many hardcore techies willingly risk AMPS's vulnerability to eavesdropping for its greater coverage.
TDMA Time Division Multiple Access, a digital technology that divides spectrum by assigning a different time slot to each user on a channel. A TDMA network delivers triple the caller capacity of an analog network.
CDMA Code Division Multiple Access, a spread spectrum technology that offers 10 to 20 times the capacity of analog networks. Adherents claim that CDMA will eventually provide voice quality and coverage superior to TDMA.
GSM Global System for Mobile, the European standard for digital wireless networks. Based on TDMA technology, GSM uses SIM cards for subscriber identities – and these chips can also double as smartcards, opening up new commerce options.
PCS Personal Communications Service, an amalgam of multiple and competing technologies – including TDMA, CDMA, and GSM – that occupy the 1,900-MHz band. Sprint PCS, for example, is a proprietary CDMA-based network.
Service, Please Outside the showroom, service (and pricing) mean the difference between life in the fast lane and going nowhere fast. Getting your phone onto a network shouldn't be a problem, but look out for limitations on peak or offpeak usage and extra charges such as roaming fees. Among the major players, only AT&T's offer reflects a flat rate.
Provider Service Type Rate Format Time Block Cost
PCS TDMA GSM CDMA AMPS
| AT&T Wireless | X| National plan | 600 minutes | $ 89.99
| GTE Wireless | X| X| X| Regional plan | 500 minutes | $ 84.95
| Sprint PCS | X| X| X| X| National plan | 600 minutes | $ 69.99
| Cellular One | X| X| X| Local promotion | 470 minutes | $ 69.99
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In Finland, it's easier than ever to have a Coke and a smile – if you have a cell phone. Just dial the number on a vending machine and – presto! – an icy can clunks down the chute and gets charged to your phone bill. But that's just the beginning: A Helsinki restaurant has a phone-operated jukebox. "Some pay for their car wash by calling the wash machine, and I can open my front door with my mobile," says Risto Linturi, technology director at the Helsinki Telephone Company. "I still can't look into my fridge with it, but that's just a matter of time."
What first seems like a Jetsons-esque test market is everyday Helsinki. Finland famously has more mobile phones per capita than any place on Earth, with about 75 percent of the national capital's population toting talkies. By 2000, Finland expects to hit 106 percent saturation, and on the business side, revenues from mobile phones have eclipsed those from local fixed-line services.
To Americans, Finland and the rest of Scandinavia represent a sort of cell phone Tomorrowland. The US lags considerably behind – it ranks 12th worldwide, with a wireless penetration rate of less than 25 percent, and forecasts have the country below 50 percent as late as 2007. Parties on both sides of the Atlantic say the US won't catch up until wireless phones rival their wall-jacked brethren in cost, ease of use, and cultural status.
The acceptance of mobile phones is often likened to the adoption of answering machines. First they annoy people, then their absence annoys people. The US is stuck in phase one. Sweden, too, began with a backlash against the "yuppie nalle," or teddy bear, as cells were disparagingly called. But today, "people get irritated if you don't have a cell phone," says Helena Norrman, an Ericsson spokesperson. "How else can they let you know they're late?"
Practical reasons for Scandinavia's big wireless welcome abound. The region has many remote island areas. Plus, the corporate culture is more egalitarian than in other parts of the world: There's a strong tradition of doing your own secretarial work, so managers and underlings need to embrace the same technologies.
The Scandinavians can also thank political foresight for their head start. Back in the 1980s, European policymakers decreed a continent-wide digital-communications platform called GSM. That prevented the consumer confusion and carrier expense experienced stateside, where there is a thicket of competing standards. In Europe, unlike in the US, you can buy a phone and switch carriers to take advantage of changes in service or price. It's illegal for carriers to subsidize the price of a phone, and the government charges only a nominal fee for licensing, so these costs are not passed on to customers, as they are in the States.
The region's wireless-phone bonanza has also been encouraged by deregulated markets and a long history of local competition that together keep prices low. In Finland, about 800 phone companies vied for the business of less than 4 million people during the 1930s, and nearly 50 telcos operate today.
Scandinavia also had NMT, an analog standard, back in the '80s, and it was a Finnish company, Radiolinja, that bought the first GSM technology from Nokia in 1989. Today, Nokia and Ericsson are the largest private companies in Finland and Sweden respectively, generating some fierce national pride and pervasive branding. Heavy marketing and sweet deals from carriers entice young people to make a mobile their first – and increasingly their only – phone.
By contrast, says Andy Sukawaty, CEO of Sprint PCS, "in the US people think mobile phones are for business, the rich, and the famous. It's going to take a revolution – in pricing above all – to change that."
The biggest change needed to transform the American mobile-phone landscape, Sukawaty says, is a reversal in the basis of payments. In most of the world, when you call someone on their mobile, you pay the toll. That makes it a lot more appealing to have a mobile than the US's receiving-party-pays system, which inspires people to keep their cell phones turned off to avoid unwanted charges.
If Americans decide to reverse their don't-call-us-we'll-call-you charges, cellular use would definitely increase. But is that a good thing? Well, in Finland, dialers are smiling all the way to the vending machine. Helsinki has the real thing.
| THE BIG SCHMOOZE
| Valhalla
