Remember the early days of mobile phones? The first models seemed so sleek and so cool that it was simply assumed anyone using them had to be someone important making crucial decisions. For the rest of us who didn't have one the running gag was to make an imaginary call and urge your imaginary broker to offload imaginary stocks and shares with cries of "Sell! Sell!"
In those far-off days the very appearance of a mobile produced shock and awe, but in less than a decade those who don't possess one are an endangered species.
The speed of take-up is remarkable, especially as medical research into the possible side-effects of using mobiles is, at best, incomplete. We don't know if relay masts are dangerous or if we harm ourselves - and others - by continually placing a radioactive receiver beside our brains. In the absence of scientific proof, however, we'll risk it and chat on.
The saturation of the Irish market by mobiles has not been unaccompanied by any etiquette governing their use. It has also produced its share of urban myths, like the story about the bystander on the London Underground who was talking into his phone when another commuter collapsed on the platform. People rushed to her aid and asked the man with the mobile to call for an ambulance. When he ignored the plea - or so the story goes - a bystander grabbed his phone only to discover it was a toy intended, presumably, to impress.
That was a while ago and commonplace incidents have long since overtaken the need for myth. There was, for instance, the night at the Abbey when, despite now standard requests to turn off mobiles and bleepers, a phone rang midway through a performance. The recipient, although embarrassed, not only answered the call but then proceeded to rabbit away ("Actually I'm at the Abbey. . .").
When I was playing snooker in a Phibsboro hall recently the collective concentration was broken not once but twice by a phone ringing loudly to the tune of Hawaii-Five-O. Then there was the businessman at Manchester airport loudly hustling deals in the departure lounge. Presumably churches will soon precede Masses, christenings and funerals with notice to congregations to kindly switch off their phones. As it is, queues at buses, trains, pubs, supermarkets, video shops and banks can be more like chat-lines. And that's only the staff.
Petrol stations advise customers to switch off mobiles in the service area; but if the danger of igniting fumes electronically was so real would the warning signs be quite so modest? The jury is out on that one until we read the sorry headline: "Man Blown Up While Texting Wife".
Everything has changed so quickly. When people enter a pub the almost standard practice is for arrivals to place their mobiles on the table, like cowboys and cowgirls disarming pistols. And then, inevitably, a phone somewhere will ring and conversation will derail. The only Irish pub I can think of where customers are requested to take or make phone calls outside is the Crown in Belfast. Hopefully more will follow its lead.
The ubiquity of mobiles has had another side-effect. For people on their own in public places reaching for a personal phone has become a reflex of a modern age with less and less space for reflection or silence. Almost anyone who sits alone will reach for the phone after 10 seconds or so, desperate to text someone a dramatic update: Nothin Nu, How Bout U?
Not so long ago I received an urgent text message from someone I didn't know. "R U in town?" she asked. Minutes later she sent me another message. She had decided it was time to dump her boyfriend. She was meeting him 2nite and would break it off. "MayB C U L8er?" she signed off.
This was a little more information than I needed. I texted her back suggesting she had the wrong number. "Sori!" she replied, adding a smiley icon.
No studies have been done to examine why the mobile phone has proved so popular in Ireland. Maybe the gadget is a "natural" for a country traditionally in love with the sound of its own voice. While we ignore everything around us we are busy reaching out to touch by remote contact. Small wonder that the opening gambit for most mobile calls is, "Where are you?" And the second most popular is, "Where are you now?" Those early models feel heavy and unwieldy now, but we still wonder how we managed without them just 10 years ago.
Mobile phones, once a tool and toy of wealthy speculators, are now Everyman's modern necessity. And more. As a fashion accessory, as an extension of your personality - customise your ringing tone! And now, just what you always needed: a telephone to take and send photos.
It has been a while since anyone pressed Button A. Almost everybody in Ireland is now at the end of an invisible line but somehow it's getting harder to reach people. The more contactable we are, the less accessible we become.