Sure those aforementioned descriptions aren’t necessarily inaccurate, but some far superior qualifications I prefer are robust, capable, versatile. Versatility is a key one, especially since modern-day dive computers have *mostly* relegated the days of the mechanical dive watch to folklore. The modus operandi nowadays is that of a trophy watch and desk diver, titles that the Submariner adorns itself with pride and joy and certainly not with a begrudging sense of obscolesence. With these formalities aside, allow me to present to you the experience that this desk diver extraordinaire may afford to the average modern day connoisseur of horology, most likely a white-collar office worker, male, about 5’8″, probably. Possibly 5’10”.

Good Morning!

Since in this particular instance I work from home pretty arbitrarily, the Sub does not meet wrist until around 9am, post morning routine. After a few morning Zoom calls at the home desk, I decide to transition into the physical office. The commute to the office affords an opportunity for one of the most important aspects of modern watch ownership for the everyday user: the hand-on-steering-wheel vanity shot. There are few things as important as how a watch looks on-wrist whilst driving, and while it’s definitely Instagram-worthy in this scenario, I wouldn’t exactly consider being photogenic to be one of its core competencies.

The lacquer-finished black dial lends itself more to legibility and all-around versatility than it does to aesthetics under the Texas sunshine. The No-date Sub’s distant cousin, Bluesy, with its sunburst-finished dial, tackles that role better. Not all glitz and glamour are lost, however, thanks to the ceramic, scratch-proof bezel that prefers to reflect light like how your rearview mirror reflects your tailgater’s high beams. And sitting somewhere in between the subtle dial and the look-at-me bezel is the bracelet, which for a mostly brushed surface doesn’t do a terrible job of broadcasting its presence. It is still, at the end of the day, a brushed 3-link Oyster bracelet, venerated and supremely functional more than it is showy and ornamental.

Into the Lair

Soon the commute comes to an end and I enter the office, the Sub proudly on-wrist, hoping for passers-by to notice and compliment it, but alas they do not. Nor do they really ever. I suppose that, being such a daily-driver of a piece, public recognition is on the shortlist of things not to expect.

I soon after settle into my office environs and the Sub camouflages nicely with my other everyday-carry essentials, like my iPhone and AirPods. I’ve also learned to co-exist the Sub with its greatest frenemy, the Macbook Pro. Their relationship began with much loathing as the Sub’s clasp annoyingly always came to resting position directly on the edge of the laptop, quickly yielding a “well-loved” look. Initially far from desirable, I’ve come to respect the well-used tool watch aesthetic since it makes the Sub look like…well, what it actually is, a tool watch. Imagine what the divers and mountaineers of old would think of sports watch culture today.

Heat of the Day

After just a few more Zoom calls and other professional activities, lunchtime suddenly dawns. Sometimes the calendar demands brief lunches and brief lunches often demand a just a few quick pizza slices from Whole Foods. In this case however, the brief lunch also made it possible to sneak in a quick stroll around the office premises, where a coffee stop offered a reprieve from the Texas summer heat. It’s during these times I give thanks for the Sub’s 300M water resistance rating, because who knows how many watches per year fall victim to coffee cup condensation? Thanks to the tank-like 300M WR desk diver construction, no watch ended up as a statistic that day.

Golden Hour

The rest of the day is uneventful, but soon enough I find myself commuting back home. Just how busy work days yield quick lunches, they also tend to extinguish the desire to cook and instead dial up the desire for an equally quick dinner fix. Exactly this transpires, and just a few short minutes later, some frozen wontons find their way to the skillet and hastily get themselves ready for consumption. Sometimes on golden hour evenings I do wonder how it would have felt if the simple no-date Submariner had a sunburst dial finish. If only I had a Bluesy to retry this experiment with.

After dinner, an evening walk, and some screen time, the last bits of the evening sun fade and the stillness of nighttime begins its shift. Here I can almost sense the Submariner’s pride in its ability to best possibly every other watch on the market in nightshift duties. In a pinch it can even function as a night light and as a means of telling the time should the need arise in otherwise complete darkness. Ah yes, its pride radiates.

In conclusion

I consider the Submariner’s day officially over upon touchdown on the nightstand or into the watch box alongside the stablemates. Gently glowing and ticking away through the night, it’s successfully weathered through the perils of the white-collar schedule that day. And should duty call again the following day, or 2 or even 3 days from now, that robust 72-hour power reserve shall ensure that it will still be ticking when the call comes. Perhaps one day I’ll deploy the Submariner according to its storied purpose many a moon ago: thriving on underwater adventures in the Great Barrier Reef, or somewhere exotic like that. Until then it will always be on stand-by, thriving just as nicely as a desk diver. A dive computer can only dream of such versatility.