I recently upgraded my mobile from the Samsung A52 to the Samsung A57. There was nothing wrong with it except perhaps the battery life. After a scary incident where my iPad just refused to reboot, I decided that 3-4 years was good enough for a device. (I did manage to get the iPad battery replaced and it started working again.) So, I decided to go in for a new phone.
I wanted something which was an almost exact replica of my A52. After some discussions with a couple of friends and ChatGPT, I settled on the A57. I didn’t have to learn anything new; it’s the “same old.”
This is deliberate. We are sold upgrades as transformation – a new interface, new gestures, new places for everything. But for a device I use for a narrow set of things, every change is a cost, not a benefit. The best upgrade is the one that gives me a working battery and asks nothing else of me. The hours I would have spent relearning where things are is the real price of a “better” phone, and it never shows up in the comparison charts.
Many people ask me why I don’t use an iPhone. As it turns out, I had bought an iPhone in the US a few months after it was launched in 2007, and then had a colleague at work jailbreak it so I could use it in India! For some reason, a couple of devices after that, I switched to Android and Samsung, and have stayed loyal.
I don’t use the mobile as much. I always carry my iPad and notebook in my BB wherever I go, so the activities I do on the mobile are quite limited – WhatsApp, email when I am away from a desktop, and a handful of utility apps. As I wrote in My Life System #16: Digital Devices, my devices are not my life; the spiral notebook and pen are. The mobile is the least important of my primary devices, which is precisely why the upgrade decision could be so boring.
Perhaps that is the test I would offer for any device: if replacing it is an event, it has too much of your life in it. Mine took an evening’s research and no adjustment at all – which is exactly how I want it.