Motorola C118 Cell Phone

How and when did purchasing a cell phone turn into buying a new car? In China, as you might expect, cell phones are a necessity and wildly popular. So, you will find cell phone dealerships...yes, DEALERSHIPS...all over Beijing. And the people who work there will turn your simple cell phone purchase into an ordeal every bit as taxing and tiring as buying the latest set of wheels.

One of the first things I had to do when I arrived in Beijing was buy a new cellular phone. My old phone, a nice Motorola Q PDA, was rendered all but useless due to the telecommunications differences between China and everyone else. What was once an internet-surfing, information-gathering, phone-calling, spreadsheet-accounting, stock market-monitoring wonder of technology turned into an expensive hand-held alarm clock. So I went to a hole-in-the-wall phone store in the Gongzhufen neighborhood, accompanied by a Chinese-speaking co-worker, to make a purchase that should have taken all of 5 minutes...including waiting in line at the checkout counter. We walked into what was basically a cell phone showroom packed with hyper-aggressive salespeople. Dozens of varieties of phones were on display.

"Just pick one" said the co-worker.

"But I was hoping to buy a dozen," I replied. "That's a joke."

Nothing.

Seriously, though, at least I knew exactly what I wanted -- a phone that had all of the basics and none of the extras, just to get me started: texting in English, local and international calling, and a clock.

The co-worker told the salesperson about my choice, and then the fun began. "How about a cameraphone?" Not now, maybe later. "Video function?" I had no plans to shoot a movie, thank you. "Gaming applications?" Only if it can transport me, Star Trek-style, straight to a craps table in Vegas. Then, a dozen more questions. In each case, my "no" response was not taken to mean "no, I don't want that," but instead, "no, not for that price. Let's make a deal." The salesperson, and my co-worker as well, thought I was negotiating for a bargain. I was not. The salesperson even walked away from the counter, as if it was time for her to try to sell a scalped NFL ticket to some other Giants fan across the Meadowlands parking lot.

Apparently, this was my cue to consider the "final offer." So I considered how many steps it would take to walk out the door and into another store. All I needed was a simple cell phone, no bells or whistles, no flashing LED lights. No ringtone that played Michael Jackson's "Thriller." My co-worker explained that the routine would be the same, regardless of which shop we went to. So we called the salesperson back over, and I suggested, "OK, I'll take the phone plus the charger and the 3 dozen ringtone options (but not "Thriller") and THAT'S IT." Thirty minutes and tons of paperwork later, we were done, and I finally had my phone.

I suppose, upon further review, I should have asked if the Motorola C118 included a taser application to use against cell phone salesworkers. But in the end, this phone does everything I want it to do. Except beam me to Ceasar's Palace for a night at the tables.