I hate telephones.
Telephones intrude our daily lives like flies on a dead beaver carcass; buzzing, chirping, pinging, singing and polyphonicing (that’s a big word) their way into our routine conversations and interactions quicker than a rat-carried virus creeping into the east-end dockyards of a seventeenth century London. They etch their ringtones into our subliminal consciousness, determine the rhythmic patterns of our daily rituals and manifest our total compliance to their every application, whim and demand.
Yes, I hate telephones – inanimate things that they are.
And today they don’t just sit on our office desks, bedside cabinets, kitchen benches and bathroom vanities. No, now we can carry them everywhere – mobile phones. I have a friend who seems to have hers permanently attached to her ear – it’s like some bulbous growth perpetually yammering away at her, distracting her from everything else that she does…
… “The light’s green, you can go… but watch out for the pedestrians God damn it!”
And lately I’ve noticed that more and more people are walking around wearing those ‘bluetooth’ ear pieces. Like, can anyone other than Russell Brand look more of twat than these clowns? I mean, they walk around like they’re talking to themselves – except they have to shout because apparently what they’re saying is so important that you and I need to know about it too. These days you can’t even enjoy a quiet chat over coffee without some nobb behind you yelling into his ear piece that “Errol got so pissed last night that he hurled outside Franky’s and far out, man, it was the funniest thing…” Come on, it’s not a tin can attached to a piece of string you know.
I have to carry two mobile phones wherever I go, one for work and one for private use. Apparently I need them both because someone might need to speak to me right now (so why I have an answering service is beyond me). And it’s absolutely amazing that some people maintain such an outrageous perception of their own self-importance that they think that what they need to say to me right now is so critically important that it supersedes anything and everything that I could possibly be doing prior to their intrusion into my day.
And it usually goes something like this…
“Hey Jack, is this a convenient time for you?”
“No actually. I’m currently [please select your response from the following alternatives: a) on the toilet, b) at a funeral, c) being transported in the back of an ambulance, d) caught in slow moving traffic, e) involved in a political coup d'état, f) talking to an attractive blonde with a most revealing cleavage]”.
“Good, because I wanted to talk to you about yesterday’s figures… do you have them up in front of you?”
“Of course, I always take them with me when I’m [please select your response from the following alternatives: a) on the toilet, b) at a funeral, c) being transported in the back of an ambulance, d) caught in slow moving traffic, e) involved in a political coup d'état, f) talking to an attractive blonde with a most revealing cleavage]”.
“Great, now can I get you to look at line three on page two? You will notice…”
…As your Medicine Man, I prescribe a single dose of high velocity lead… taken orally.
“No actually. I’m currently [please select your response from the following alternatives: a) on the toilet, b) at a funeral, c) being transported in the back of an ambulance, d) caught in slow moving traffic, e) involved in a political coup d'état, f) talking to an attractive blonde with a most revealing cleavage]”.
“Good, because I wanted to talk to you about yesterday’s figures… do you have them up in front of you?”
“Of course, I always take them with me when I’m [please select your response from the following alternatives: a) on the toilet, b) at a funeral, c) being transported in the back of an ambulance, d) caught in slow moving traffic, e) involved in a political coup d'état, f) talking to an attractive blonde with a most revealing cleavage]”.
“Great, now can I get you to look at line three on page two? You will notice…”
…As your Medicine Man, I prescribe a single dose of high velocity lead… taken orally.
And the great irony about telephones is that they were once touted as the great salvation to all our communication needs. Telephones would give us immediate access to anyone we wanted to talk to anywhere in the world. So go on, try it. Call one of your utility service providers; electricity, gas, water… or try a government agency…
“Thank you for calling [record the name of your organisation here]. If you would like to speak to a customer service representative, press 1 now. If you would like to open a new account, press 2. If you would like to close an existing account, press 3. If you require an account update and know your 18 digit customer number off by heart, press 4. If you don't know your 18 digit customer number of by heart, press 592371462110936047. If you would like to hear some nice holding music, press 6. If you want to complain about our organisation, press 7 to be redirected back to 1 where a customer service representative will transfer you 9 so you will be able to record your complaint by pressing 8 and then #. Remember to leave your name, address, 18 digit customer number, social security number, a description of your concern, a daytime contact number plus email address, two character referees, a password reminder question, and a convenient time next November where one of our customer service representatives can call you back. Thank you for your call because your business is important to us. Goodbye.”
Yep… instant communication…
That’s what I think… And usually I’m right.
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