BEING PUT ON HOLD

       Mobile phones were a wonderful invention, and so were good manners,andit's a pity the two are not compatible By Andrew Biggs

       I haven't seen Nigel for a week so I'm eager to catch up."How was Japan,"I ask him in the lobby of the steely inner-city Bangkok office building where he works."Well, I had a -
       WELCOME TO THE HOTEL CALIFORNIA ... SUCH A LOVELY PLACE ...SUCH A LOVELY PLACE ... SUCH A LOVELY FACE ... PLENTY OF ROOM AT THE ...
       "Hello?" says Nigel."Oh hi Mark, how are you? Yeah, we're on for 2pm, right?"
       Nigel's eyes dart over to me as Mark asks him something. With a tiny trace of guilt in the very corner of his voice he replies:"Sure, go ahead." And, as usual,Nigel and I are off to Starbucks, him on the phone, and me left like the proverbial shag on the rock of modern Bangkok life,second fiddle to Thaksin Shinawatra's source of obscene wealth.
       As I write this column my fingers are attempting to stage a protest more violent than the red shirts over Songkran. They fear the more I write about this, the more I am in danger of sounding like my parents - something those of us in middle age dread even more than crows feet and the inability to get it up.
       Oh, all right, so crucify me for saying it, but whatever happened to the good old days when we had conversations ?These days we are all floating around in cyber space accumulating as many Facebook friends as we can - but God help us if we ever have to actually sit down and talk to them.Unless they phone, of course.It wasn't a year ago Nigel was scowling at his boss's behaviour."You should see him in meetings," he said, shaking his head in disgust."He'll be tying up some big shipping deal with Japanese executives at the Klong Toey port and bang - his mobile phone goes off. And he answers it! Everybody in the meeting is left hanging mid-air. It's unbelievable!"
       Well, a year is a long time in the shipping business. They say spouses assume their partner's behaviour over time; that dog owners start to resemble their pets. Nigel has slowly morphed into his boss and he doesn't even know it. These days a conversation with Nigel is a constant reminder of just how over-rated Hotel California isas a song.
       And because he is one of my closest friends, it's reached a point where I am like Pavlov's dogs. Whenever I hear that damn song on the radio or in a pub, I stop talking mid-sentence and remind myself I'm not that important.
       When was it that the person calling on your mobile phone became more important than the person talking to you in real life? I was in Thailand when mobile phones spread faster than swine flu ever could. AIS even forced its first customers to go to classes to learn how to use them,and clearly manners wasn't part of the curriculum.
       I was here when we went through the period where Thais sat in restaurants alone and shouted conversations into their phones, just to show the rest of us how important they were. By the end of the 1990s mobile phones became cheap and everybody, even the lower classes tragically, acquired mobile phones. The novelty wore off, but bad manners wore on.
       I still remember the first time I suffered Cellphone Shock. It was back in about 1994 and I was interviewing potential reporters for a magazine job. A very capable young Thai lady, fluent in English,sashayed into the office and as I asked how she enjoyed university, her clunky brick-sized mobile phone started to ring.
       "Sorry ... can I answer this?" she asked,and not waiting for an answer, her hand dived into her designer-label bag to answer the phone in Thai."Hello? Yes, I'm fine.I'm being interviewed by my new boss at the moment - can I call you back? Don't forget we have a date tonight at 8. Bye."The phone call ended and she said in English:"Sorry about that. What were you asking?"
       Never mind,nong . Like her, I'd forgotten. She'd blown the interview, despite perfect English, an excellent transcript and a father who was a friend of the publisher.
       I'm certain any reader under the age of 25 is now shrugging his or her shoulders and thinking: So what did she do wrong?She apologised, didn't she? That is precisely the problem- she said sorry but still went ahead.
       Skip to 2009 and that girl is now the norm. Flesh and blood has become secondary to an incoming voice on the latest Nokia, regardless of who it is, with or without an apology.
       Some of us older folk have been swept along with the ride but we know, thanks
       to parents of a different era, that picking up a phone mid-conversation would give Miss Manners a coronary. Nigel belongs to that era. I know what Mark asked him at lunchtime. It was something like:"Is it convenient for you to talk?" or "Can I ask you something?" Because Nigel looked over to me, a dead giveaway that yes! A little remnant of courtesy made him weigh up Mark's question, and the fact I was standing next to him. Only a remnant though; I lost, remember?
       I come from a country that churns out dreadful soap operas like Neighbours and Home And Away , where the actors are as exquisitely attractive as they are extraordinarily dumb. But we Aussies are good at cliff hangers. At the end of each episode we are left with suntanned Nigel, mouth agape, staring at his blonde buxom girlfriend asking:"Whaddya mean you're moi sister, Narelle?" Cue dramatic music.Credits. Shocked viewers return to bland suburban lives. That's how I feel when somebody picks up a mobile phone midconversation. My life suddenly goes on hold. How was Japan, Nigel? FIND OUT IN THE NEXT THRILLING EPISODE COZ MY PHONE'S RINGING.
       And in the meantime what am I supposed to do? Stare at him while he has his conversation? Goodness, that would be intruding. Look away self-consciously?Can't do that because it's rude? I can't scowl because that makes me look petty and pathetic. I can't do anything . Then when Nigel chooses to hang up, I am magically back in his life. Cue next outrageous breach of courtesy; he answers my question, two minutes later, as if no time has elapsed at all.
       "It was great. Went to a lot of really interesting restaurants. The Japanese are actually quite friendly, you know." I am nodding, but in the churning morass of my inner self I am battling insecurity.How worthless am I; relegated to second place simply with the sound of an Eagles chorus!
       Is this only Bangkok, or is this the world? If it's only Bangkok then I'm relieved. We can put it down to a cultural thing with the Thais - another western toy eager to be shown off. But wait a minute - Nigel's not Thai. He's a New Zealander; despite this he is one of my dearest friends. Surely he should know better ...
       No, he shouldn't. Bad manners, like broken romances and bad breath, cross all cultures. But I do have a plan. The next time I meet Nigel for coffee I am going to take out my mobile phone and call him. In that way he can't escape me ... flesh and blood clashes inextricably with an incoming call.
       In this way everybody will be satisfied;his desire for a piece of technology pressed against his ear, my desire for human contact, and AIS's desire for obscene wealth.

       "It's reached a point where I am like Pavlov's dogs. Whenever I hear that damn song on the radio or in a pub, I stop talking mid-sentence and remind myself I'm not that important

       "The next time Imeet Nigel for coffee I am going to take out my cell phone and call him.In that way he can't escape me and pathetic. I can't do anything