oPhone

I want one.

I don't know if you've seen or heard or smelt one yet, but you probably want one too.

Ever read a book and thought, 'What this really needs is the scent of the pine forest the character is walking through?'

I know! Right?

I can't remember what a pine forest smells like either.

Or imagine reading Winnie the Pooh and smelling the sweet scent of honey. Like you'd stuck your head right in the jar and couldn't get it back out.

And you get all of this out of your phone!

Well you don't really. But until I read the details further down the page and realised that you have to buy a large device with towers where smells come out I thought you did. And that moment was magical.

As was the moment what I realised that if I didn't want to buy the large smell accessory I could buy a bangle version instead.

No I couldn't.

404 yourself!

I want one, I want one, I want one, I want one, I want one, I want one, I want one.

Why is it that when I can't buy something immediately I crave it more? That doesn't seem very fair at all.

Down the bottom of the page there is a sign-up sheet to assess whether you're a suitable candidate.

A suitable candidate to what, you ask?

To buy their product.

I remember once upon a time if you were nice enough to test products for manufacturers you were given what was commonly referred to as a job, with a hefty side benefit of pay.

Now, thanks mainly to people like me, you get to pay more for a buggier product, and to fill out feedback forms and/or spend hours on your computer detailing whether that new fix got it. Then this one? This one? Oh, that made your gadget stop working altogether? Interesting.

And rather than just be able to do that at your leisure, you have to fill out a form describing why you'd make a better candidate than the next person.

Is it wrong that I still want it?