Hold the Phone

Mr. Watson — Come here — I want to see you. [First intelligible words spoken over the telephone]

-Alexander Graham Bell

I hate talking on the phone. Even as a kid, I never enjoyed talking on the phone. There were two friends I talked to almost daily after school, but most of the time they would phone me. Of course, those were the days long before everyone had their own personal phone growing out of the palm of their hand; long before the beeps and buzzes and pings that accompany us every moment of the day - on buses and trains, at school, at the office, in parks and in museums. Those were the days when Maxwell Smart answering his shoe phone in a graveyard was considered hilarious. (When my kids saw the show, they didn't get the joke....sigh.)

It was hilarious

My father used the phone at home a lot for his work. I was taught at a relatively early age how to take a message for him. I used to get quite nervous answering the phone (long before there was caller ID), in case I made a mistake in the name or the number or spelled something wrong. 

Eventually, I learned to stay in my room, pretend I didn't hear the noise (I was excellent at that particular skill from pretending not to hear the school bell ring and not going to class - but I digress), and let the darned thing ring. Someone else would eventually get it. 

There have been instances when, rather than speak on the phone, I would go and find the person I needed to speak to - even if that took hours. Or days.  If it wasn't practical to find the person in real life, I would get someone else to phone. If I couldn't find a volunteer, and there was no choice, I would take a couple of days to prepare, bite the bullet, and just forget about it.

Yes, I lost some friends along the way... 

When I first came to Israel, it was like a paradise, because nobody had phones. People wrote postcards to each other. They would leave notes in Richie's Pizza shop on King George Street; 'meet me at 2 on Wed at work. It's important.'

It was glorious. 
That period of time didn't last long enough.

But then email was invented. 
Could it get any better? 
Seriously, no more phone. I could think about what I wanted to say; it didn't matter if I didn't ee-nun-see-ate, if I slurred all my words together, or if I had an accent. And I could answer when it was convenient. 

Today, besides email, there is SMS, Messenger, Whatsapp, and a slew of other ways to communicate. Of course, for all that, you actually need a phone. You just don't need a voice. (Which is great! when you have a sore throat!)

When my phone does ring (and I purposely have a very annoying ringtone), I usually look at it in horror and don't answer. I then text the person and inform them that I don't speak on the phone. 'Oh, come on", they will text back, "stop being a baby". And I text back "stop being so old - nobody speaks on the phone anymore". That always stops them cold. It being partially true helps. 

I have become quite adept at not speaking on the phone. Almost everything, these days, can be done online; finding all sorts of information, getting directions, paying bills, doing business. 
I have not spoken on the phone for so long now, that I'm afraid I've forgotten how. 

Unfortunately, sometimes, despite my best efforts, I have to speak on the phone. 
Like at work.  For some reason, work calls aren't as daunting to me as social calls. There's a reason for the call. There's no need for chit chat and small talk; no need to think of what to say, or afraid you won't react correctly to some news your friend is telling you. 
So when my work phone (the landline) rang recently, I looked down at it with a certain amount of dismay and dread. It showed a number I did not recognize. People were watching me so I had to pick it up. 

"Go ahead, caller", I said (in Hebrew), expecting some irate person with a complaint to answer me.  
But it wasn't an irate person. 
It was an old and very dear friend whom I haven't seen in a very long time. We are, however, facebook friends. 

When he identified himself, I, well,  panicked. All I could think of was 'OMG, I have to talk on the phone!
Unfortunately, some of my panic escaped my mouth. "Why are you calling me?" I asked my friend. 
Thankfully, my friend, knowing I am a strange and irritating person, laughed. "Good to hear you, too", he said, or something like that. I was still in panic mode. 

It took me a few minutes to calm down and talk like a normal human being. 
He was calling to see how I was. After all the action that has occured in southern Israel in the last few weeks, he just wanted to touch base. 
It was so sweet. 
And I'm going to have to learn how to talk on the phone. 
But not today.