Rolex A Fine Watch, But Where’s The Calculator?

What does your watch say about you?

Does it say, “Hello, I am a person of success, taste and fabulous wealth”?

Or does it say, “Hello, I can tell time”?

Some of us are still operating under the naive delusion that a watch is a time-keeping device. In fact a watch is a status symbol, a Mercedes Benz on the wrist.

Any lingering illusions I had about this were shattered as I looked through magazine ads trying to find a nice Christmas watch for my son. I found the 23-karat gold Montego, the Phillipe Charriol Columbus, the Mont Blanc Meisterstuck, the Raymond Weil, the Ebel Le Modulor, the Audemars Piguet and finally the Swiss Army titanium RB330, a bargain among these watches at only $495.

At that price, it includes a corkscrew, a barometer, a global positioning device and a small hot-plate for heating soup.

Actually, it consists only of three hands and a dial, because the watch industry operates under an unusual law called the Reverse Law of Complexity: The more expensive the watch, the fewer the features.

Let me explain it to you this way. There is a watch on the market with an alarm, a day-date feature, a dual time zone feature, a stopwatch with lap timer and a waterproof calculator so that you can balance your checkbook while in the shower.

I forgot to mention: It tells time!

It costs $29.95, and I know because I have one. Take away every feature except the actual time-keeping function, and you are describing a Rolex worth $5,000.

The Reverse Law of Complexity also makes it easy to tell the price of a fancy watch. Just look at the face:

A watch selling in two figures has an easy-to-read face with actual digits that go from one to 12.

A watch selling in three figures has Roman numerals.

A watch selling in four figures has nothing but little lines.

A watch selling in five figures has a blank face. Strap it on the wrong way, and you’ll spend the rest of your life six hours late.

Usually the face isn’t completely blank; it features the brand name. This makes the watch perform more effectively as a status object, but your friends won’t think it’s funny when they ask you for the time and you keep saying, “Quarter past Gucci.”

One other thing about status-watches. They are not actually called watches. A survey of magazine ads shows far more pretentious names for these devices: Timepiece, chronograph, chronometer and professional chronometer. The professional chronometer is for those who have reached the professional level of watch-wearing. The standards, I’m sure, are rigorous.

Through this chronological minefield, I am merely trying to find a decent watch for a teenage kid. I don’t think I’ll be getting him the Seamaster Professional Automatic Chronometer, water resistant to 1,000 feet, since he rarely goes below, oh, 600 or 700 feet.

Nor will I be getting him the DaVinci SL Chronograph. I don’t purchase anything for $8,750 without a steering wheel and cupholders. I don’t care if Leonardo himself made it.

Nor will I be getting the Eco-Drive Titanium. Titanium is great for golf clubs, but frankly, who needs extra distance in a watch?

I’m leaning toward a nice digital-display watch. These watches, for some reason, have become the status casualties of the watch world. Back in the late ‘70s, digital was the future. The round watch dial was a relic. Today, only the most status-oblivious people wear digital watches, which is of course why I treasure my Timex digital calculator watch.

I don’t want to saddle my son with a low-class watch, but I have noticed an interesting phenomenon with these digital watches. They tell the exact same time as an $8,000 watch.

Sometimes even better. It’s never quarter past Gucci.

To leave a message on Jim Kershner’s voice-mail, call 459-5493. Or send e-mail to jimk@spokesman.com, or regular mail to Spokesman-Review, P.O. Box 2160, Spokane, WA 99210.

, DataTimes