Are you free to talk?

I finally bought a smartphone because I was given an offer I couldn't refuse and now I take it along with me everywhere I go — even to the washroom.

"Who are you talking to?" asked my wife, knocking on the bathroom door, when she heard me mumbling in there one day. "Quiet, please, it's office work," I hissed at her. "Will you come out please, the maid's come to clean your office," she replied.

I find that I am not the only one who takes his smartphone to the toilet. I called up the CEO of a company once and asked him politely if he was free to talk. "Sure, go ahead," he said magnanimously.

I started off with the easy questions and, as I was going for the jugular, I heard what sounded like a water fountain in the background. The man continued, explaining the situation without missing a beat, and then I heard a full-throttle flush, the one where the whole button is depressed.

"Are you sure I am not calling at a bad time?' I asked him. "No, no, not at all," he said, and I wondered whether he was making some sort of statement about how he feels about journalists.

Why is it that the smartphone has become so omnipresent in our lives that it is natural for us to take it with us even when nature calls?

I read somewhere that the smartphone is bad for your health — not just bad for your hearing, but bad for your health — because many people take it with them to public toilets where there are nasty germs lurking around that can latch on to your phone.

I know that not many people wash after using the toilet and not many people clean their mobile phones.

There are still a few of my colleagues who never take their phones to the toilet, but leave them on their desks, and that can be quite annoying.

A smartphone is a great gadget — it helps you calculate what your share of the bill is when you go out for a party, it takes pictures and suddenly everyone is like a Japanese tourist clicking away at the slightest excuse.

It helps settle a dispute with your know-it-all friend as you quickly browse Google and it even finds the route to the Outlet Mall somewhere on the Dubai-Al Ain Highway ... but your ring tone, which you think is cute, can be really maddening to others.

It always happens: The whole day nobody calls you, but leave it on your desk and go the washroom and immediately it starts to ring.

There's the silky, suave ring tone from the movie The Godfather, which goes on and on and makes you dream of fitting a silencer to a gun and following the owner of the smartphone.

There are patriotic ring tones, such as India, Oh My India. Then there are Arabic ring tones which invariably begin with the word habibi and slowly build up to a crescendo with drums beating, castanets clashing and violins wailing.

I find that today there are only two types of people: BlackBerry owners, business-like with their sleek, black phones with a red light flashing all the time and e-mails dropping into their inboxes every few minutes; and iPhone owners, who are really kids at heart, downloading tons of apps. (Incidentally, there's an app that can turn your smartphone into a mirror.)

As I lovingly place my BlackBerry next to me on the bedside table just before I go to sleep, it gives off vibrations every now and then as my inbox fills up with junk mail, reminding me that I need to get a life.