Bermuda Shorts - James Patterson [61]
There’s also an element of infantalization about Gadget Geekness. On a Friday evening, my wife and I emerged from a movie to see a line of adults a hundred feet long waiting at the ice cream store next to the theater, while around the corner, the bar was almost empty. It was enough to make me want to cry. I haven’t liked ice cream since I was twelve years old, and nearly every guy in line waiting for his ice cream treat was playing with his… cell phone.
What happens with most of us, I think, is that a novelty can be fun, but when novelty wears off, all we seek is a certain comfort level with our technological environment so we can settle down, burrow in, and get some work done. In my youth, I was the one people came to when their new stereo systems needed hooking up. But somewhere along the line, I quit keeping up with the latest thing and went on sort of a technological cruise control. A decent tape deck, a reliable typewriter, and some rabbit ears on my American-made Magnovox TV set were the staples of a happy and productive life. You may think, reading this, that I am an angry Luddite, or some grouchy turn-back-the-clock has-been. That may very well be, but I’ll have you know that between my office phones, home office phone, home phone, and family, there are ten telephone lines and three cell phone accounts I’m responsible for. And I won’t answer any of them.
You see, as I said earlier, we really aren’t intended to actually answer the damn thing anymore. Think about it. The government doesn’t answer the phone. Neither do the major corporations and damn near all the lesser ones. They don’t want to talk to you. And why should they? Got a problem with our product? Throw it away and buy another one. Got a problem with your government? Too damn bad, you voted us in, or worse, you didn’t even care enough to go to the polls. Your satisfaction, as far as they are concerned, was guaranteed the minute you passed the credit check. They don’t have to answer the phone; you can’t make them. Taking care of your bullshit problem has become the job of the website or the numerical selection recording. Sometimes they just come right out and tell you to get lost. “The Wizard sez, ‘Go away!’“
Well, I am simply recommending you do the same thing.
The commonplace house phone is done, over, toast. And good riddance. It has outlived its usefulness. And the cell phone? Well, from now on we’ll know who’s calling and why. Pertinent facts and ideas can be passed along without the inconvenience of actual contact, and much faster. But by and large, bad manners and atrocious etiquette have become mainstays of public adult behavior, especially where the telephone is concerned, and my only conclusion is that, mercy of mercies, you can at least turn the damned thing off. And when I do, this will be my voicemail robot’s response:
Hi, your call is being handled by the Cosmo Demonic Telephone Company, the same company that provides Mr. Patterson with telephone service. There will be a one dollar charge for handling your call over and above your regular phone service charge, a nuisance fee that will go directly to Jim. He thanks you for calling. Please choose one of the following options:
If you have called to bawl me out for not answering the phone, press one.
If you have called to bawl me out for another reason, press two.
If you’re a friend of mine in need of some money or assistance, get in line, oh, and press three.
If you’re a relative of mine, and have called because you think you get to pass on to me all the stress you’ve let accumulate in your poor tortured psyche and think I can handle it, I can’t, get in another line, and press 4.
If you’re a telemarketer, televangelist, teleprompter, or telefuckinanythingelse, press this…
If you called to simply tell me you love me, anyway and regardless, well, God Bless You… and press on.
Thanks for calling, and I promise to get back to you just as soon as I possibly can… find a good reason to.
Just