I am the Phone Monster. At least that is my nickname from my years as a teenager. Now, my family, who was always annoyed by my telephone gabbing habits, needs to read this. All of you need a class in using the telephone at a Continuing Ed program or something.
My parents do not have call waiting. And they screen their calls. Do you know how annoying it is to call someone and have to talk to the machine like an asshole until they pick up. If I try to tell a joke, the punchline gets lost in the chaos of picking up and getting the machine to turn off. If I am on fire and need their immediate assistance – they don’t answer, making me wonder if they are sitting there listening to me or if they are really out. And don’t even get me started on the “busy signal.” What the hell is that? Most people haven’t heard a busy signal since 1981, when they pulled their Camaro off to the side of the road to make a call from a payphone.
Moving on to my brother. He has a cell phone. He uses it to call me, tells me to call him back, then promptly turns the phone off. Give me a break. The battery can always be recharged if that’s what he’s worried about.
And my other brother. He’ll call once in a while (from a landline,) when he knows he’s been remiss in keeping in touch. He leaves a message, I will call back within five minutes and the damn phone goes to voicemail because they don’t have a machine. I always wondered why this happens, how is it that he calls and then runs out the door right after? But, he finally admitted that when I’m not home he moves on to the next person on his list and when they are on that call, they don’t click over. HELLO? You JUST CALLED me! CLICK OVER DAMN IT!
That’s my rant for the day. I’ll try to be happier tomorrow.