You can call me. And some people do. On my landline or on my cell. Most times I'll answer my landline but not my cell because my cell's usually buried at the bottom of my purse, ringer set to vibrate, so I rarely hear it. And even when I do, I can't find it in time to answer it. And when it’s not buried in the bottom of my purse, it’s still usually always set to vibrate and since I’ve listened to music my entire life set to the volume of "inflict damage” as Tom Watson would say, I probably still won’t hear it.
I could set the volume of my cell phone ringer to “inflict damage” but when I’ve done that, I’ve normally forgotten I’ve done that and something like this rings out, say, in the middle of a meeting. With a CEO. And a CFO. And their investors.
Or, say, at my cousin's wedding. Right before the minister tells the groom that he may kiss his bride.
Did anyone object? Probably. Like I did to Blue Kid. Who made that my ringtone as a joke and never told me!
You could always leave a message on my cell but I'll probably never listen to it. I haven't listened to the 63 I have now. I’ve normally talked to whoever has left those messages ten times in one way or another since they left the voicemails and anyway, who can ever remember the password to access the voicemail on their cell phone?
I have “inflicted damage” not only on my ears through the years but also what is between them.
You might be one of those people who call my landline first and when I don't answer, immediately call my cell. I may not answer either one. Sometimes when the landline rings, I'm running around trying to find that phone and by the time I find it, it's stopped ringing. I only know, days later, you've immediately called my cell trying to track me down (Missed calls!) when I run across my cell as I'm digging in my purse trying to find my lipstick. Or the telephone bill. Or my son’s birth certificate. A CD someone made me in 2002. Or the remote for the DVD player.
I may not call you back though. I might text you. And you might text me. And then I’ll do that thing I do when I’m texting, wondering if I should spell “though” “tho” or “your” “yr” or “to” “2” and “Oh my god!” “Omg!” I always have a moment of stress when I have to spell “I’m” “im” or “we’ll” “well” or “don’t” “dont.”
“Whatever.” “Watevr.”
Some people instant message me and we’ll chat. Well, only one person ever has. It was like she was sitting there shrunk down all tiny by a laser gun in some science fiction movie, in my email window in that little box that pops up in the lower right hand corner. This morning, by the time I had figured out that the popping noise I kept hearing was her teeny self sitting in that box in my email window in another open tab, she was already gone. She had typed:
“Helllloooooooooooooooo?”
“Are you there?!”
“Oh, nevermind!”
The first time she instant messaged me a few days ago, I didn’t trust that it was really her. So I called her. And she answered right away. Obviously, she is obsessed with the phone and keeps it clutched in her tiny little hands at all times. Or, more likely, she has not inflicted the same amount of damage upon herself that I have upon myself and is far more organized than I can ever hope to be.
She said, “Why aren’t you instant messaging me!”
“I wasn’t sure it was really you!”
“It’s really me. Ok, let’s instant message!”
So we sat on the phone typing instant messages to each other in that little box while we talked to each other about how our two tiny, shrunken selves were like a science fiction movie, typing instant messages to each other in that little box.
“Ooooh, look! It says you’re typing now!”
Some people send me private messages on Facebook. And I know they’ve done this because I get notified by email. I don’t read the messages in the email window, I open Facebook and read them there. I have no idea why. Sometimes I get private messages on Facebook from the same person who has tried to call my landline then immediately tried to call my cell. And sometimes not. Sometimes I get private messages on Facebook from people I haven’t heard from in years wanting to know if they can post a picture of me from college.
Nice of him to ask since it’s policy that I must approve all images of myself prior to them being posted on the Internet! By text or preferably, by email. So that it’s large enough that I can analyze every square centimeter of it. Maybe he could have attached it to the private Facebook message. I have no idea. I should have asked him. But all I was thinking about at the time were the olden days. The 1980s. When he and I used to talk quite a bit.
By writing letters to each other. Letters written on actual paper using actual pens in our actual handwriting. Letters that were written that had to be mailed across the country to each of our full-sized selves. I told him when replying to his message on Facebook that I still have all his actual letters in a shoebox somewhere here in my office. And if I ever find them, I’ll let him know.
I haven’t heard back from him yet. He’s yet to text or email me the photo that I need to analyze and approve. But, I did get a Twitter request from him a couple of days ago. I’d Tweet to remind him to send the photo but I have no idea how to Tweet and anyway, I can’t remember my Twitter password.
Maybe I’ll just call him. I think I wrote his number down on a piece of paper that’s floating around somewhere. Probably at the bottom of my purse.
BG- I think Andy Rooney has taken over your soul!!!
I have called your landline and you have answered. I'm taking that as a good thing.
Posted by: Jennifer | July 16, 2009 at 05:03 PM
that's WAY more than 100 words.
Posted by: zombie rotten mcdonald | July 16, 2009 at 05:34 PM
It was the special 50-stream of consciousness-50 edition!
Posted by: Jennifer | July 16, 2009 at 06:40 PM
Is there extra credit for that?
~
Posted by: ifthethunderdontgetya™³²®© | July 16, 2009 at 07:26 PM
OH, you're hilarious, BG! All these fabulous bells-and-whistles ways to communicate and still we don't, not very well. I think I hand-wrote my last letter in 1989; since then it's all been email and phones and cell phones and texts and FB and yes, I also forget passwords all the time.
As for Ozzy -- I WANT that ringtone!
Posted by: Wren | July 16, 2009 at 07:41 PM
this is soooooo good. I'm glad you went outside the 50 word box for this one.
I'd send you a handwritten card, but then I'd might get some green cookies by return mail!!!
Posted by: Kathleen in Oakland | July 17, 2009 at 02:21 PM