I'm not convinced I want a smartphone but I have a constant headache from lugging my 17kg iBook everywhere I go. And my iPod. And my Sony Ericsson phone. And chargers for all three. So, I decided that the advertising must be right: I need a phone that can browse, handle email and drown out the guy beside me on the Jo'burg to Cape Town red-eye. Apparently South Africa's major providers of mobile telephony disagree.
I think it's time the Competition Commission looked at the industry because it's clear to me that there is not a competitive market for high-end cellular services. It started with the iPhone. When my contract with Vodacom expired I decided to wait until the advent of the Jesus handset before renewing it. When Christmas came, some time in September, I wandered into a gleaming flourescent kiosk at Cape Town's waterfront and asked for one. "Oh, you don't want one of those, it's really just a toy," said the guy behind the counter. This surprised me as I had read that it was a mobile computer. But he had lots of gel in his hair and a black shirt with lilac pinstripes, so I figured he must be right.
On his advice I wandered over to a nearby Vodashop -- different name, slightly less fluorescent, more handsets on display, actually the same chain -- and I got the same advice. Apparently the i was not the Phone I'd been waiting for. That would be the Blackberry Bold. Better email, no pesky touch-screen typing, lovely display. It would be available in a month. So I reconciled myself to the Sony, with its paltry battery life, wonky charger and pointless email support, while I waited a bit longer. I wanted to be the smug dude who had eschewed Steve Job's wunderwerk for the less obvious alternative. Eventually the Vodasmurf called: "We've got the Blackberry Bold," he said, squeaky with excitement, "but they are going fast, so come quickly."
I needed no more encouragement to drop my work, womble over to the retail cave and fondle the thing. "I'll take it," I said, "if you give me a discount." "Done," he replied after a quick call to the Vodahub, and there it all began to go wrong. There was a systems snarl-up in the Vodabrain, the "dealsheet" was not forthcoming. I should come back in an hour, no, a day, or three. Or a week. They would keep the handset, and the paperwork, against my return. But they didn't, and there were no more Bold Blackberries to be had in the land. The Vodaserf, let's call him Julian, because that's his name, was nowhere to be found. Transferred, or on leave, or wherever they go when they leave the retail cave. "Don't worry," said the other smurfs. "We'll have more next month, but you'll have to pay more because the rand has weakened."
I threatened to "churn" to MTN, taking my fat monthly bill with me. Actually, I tried. I looked for a Yello shop but I don't think there are any. Then I sent an email via the bit of the Yello website that says subscribe. Then I called the telephone number for people who want to sign up for contracts, got lost in a thicket of voicemail prompts and promptly gave up.
Months have gone by since I started trying to upgrade, and my shoulder is getting worse. I keep getting SMSes from the Vodabrain telling me of the wonderful world that awaits me when I re-up with it. A nice Vodasmurfette, who we will call Lesa because that is how she spells her name, promised a fortnight ago to make it all better, but nothing has happened.
So MTN doesn't want me, Vodacom takes me for granted and neither Virgin nor Cell-C are my type. I am switching to pay-as-you-go; at least you know what kind of relationship you are getting into.
Source: Mail & Guardian
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