RACHEL'S COLUMNS

These articles appeared in Rachel's column every Friday in the A3 section of The Age

Text and the modem woman
27th February 2004

I'm at the airport, in a cubicle at the Qantas Club lounge in the grown-ups section – the Business Centre.  There's a desk with a fax machine and a range of power points to plug in all the attachments one needs in order not to feel alienated in a grown-up world.  Mock wood-grain partitions divide us, him and me, from the other players.  The black vinyl mat covering the desktop ensures my clammy palms won't accidentally leave nasty marks on shiny surfaces, that way no-one will register that I have anxiety issues.  The trouble is, I can hear every conversation around me, so despite the illusion of privacy, I feel exposed and it's making me sweat all over the place; I'm leaving fingerprints-a-plenty as far as the eye can see.

All I want is some quiet time with my new main squeeze and his sophisticated layout capabilities.  We're travelling far away and he's been enhanced for global roaming.  It's going to be just the two of us for a couple of weeks so I want to try-out some of his new applications – alone, away from prying eyes.  Standing right behind me, so close that I can sniff which washing powder his shirts have been soaking in, is a tall, dark-grey suited husband, negotiating the sale of a car for his wife.  A fax machine and two cubicles away, an embattled youth is struggling with the weight of his designer tie and the responsibility he holds in his briefcase.  He yaps like a frisky puppy into his mobile phone.  "I think we have to think seriously about any activities we buy into in Asia…  How many corporate offices do you think they have over there?  We need to offer them a price now and just bloody take over!"

I need to eat or feel loved – whichever is closer.  People's lives float around me.  Details of take-overs, sales, purchases and secret meetings float up to the surface like bubbles in a jacuzzi.  The tone is sharp and investigative, I haven't heard one laugh in the twenty minutes we've been sitting here.  Can we all loosen up please?  The puppy continues to tug at his phone.  "At the moment there's very little productivity in that portfolio, only 6%!"  Finally, an American enters our zone in a pair of Levis, like Elvis he flicks his hair to one side and suddenly there's a whole "lotta shakin goin' on".  He's friendly, but incredibly loud; short but perfectly formed.  I try to acclimatize to the accent because I'll be hearing it on all fronts for the next couple of weeks.

There's no escape from the movers or shakers so I lie with my head on my laptops' built-in features.  It's our first time on a long trip together and I'm quickly realising how I've come to rely on all his many capabilities.  There's so much more to our relationship than hypertext linking.

I admit I was nervous about commitment, but after standing for too long at the corner of Walk and Don't Walk, too scared to cross the information highway, I'm finally feeling like an adult having a mature relationship.

There's a joke I heard; what's the difference between a computer salesman and a car salesman?  A car salesman knows when he's lying.  Trust me, these last few days I've had to get real close and personal with my laptop and there's nothing I don't know about my "modem country selector", "location manager" or how to squeeze a computer technician until they squirt everything they know.

And here we are, ready to go public.  I fold out the integrated handle and at last I'm in a compatible relationship.  I know that in order to make it work I have to invest time and effort.  I admit, it's a bit like being on a run away train; I'm the one keeping the whole thing going, hoping we don't go off the rails and crash.  It would be embarrassing because I raved about him to all my friends.  For the first time I feel connected, I've found the right software and I'm in a double-click kind of mood.  I need him and without me, he's just a bunch of applications copied onto a hard disk.