"I'm going put you in limbo because I'd rather take the chance whoever's calling is more interesting than you."
All my life I've wanted to be a member of a minority, which chance of parentage denied me until, suddenly, I was different; people looked at me with pity and talked v-e-r-r-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y.
Until 2004, I was cellularless and proud of it, a totally hardwired person in the land of the wireless. I had refused to given in to pressures ruthlessly applied by friends, family and bill collectors to embrace a technology I didn't understand, commit to 320 million minutes over the rest of my life or lose money and use a phone with a number pad designed for the Keebler elves.
People nowadays insist you have all the latest gadgets and get very upset if you don't. We went through a similar cultural phenomenon with fax machines, millions of which are now displayed as pop art or used as paperweights after email was invented. Actually, email was invented much earlier, but weak-hearted industrialists didn't have the courage to tell us until we had all bought one of their fax machines.
I've observed that callers develop serious personality disorders when they can't leave a message and break out in a raging rash when confronted by a busy signal. If you are talking on the phone, people calling in expect you to truncate that call and speak to them. This behavior sends the following message to the first party: "I have an incoming call. I'm going put you in limbo because I'd rather take the chancewhoever's calling is more interesting than you."
Eventually, I caved. I'm not proud of that fact, but I was tired of being the only hardwired person in town. People were staring. Being excluded from meeting friends at any events with a crowd got to me. No one could call me and say, "I'm on Market walking towards the Bay", or (during the Bay to Breakers event) "I'm next to the guy dressed as a 18-foot giant radish. Where are you?"
Frankly, I couldn't take the looks of pity when I was forced to admit I was sanscell. (Oh, you know who you are.) Anyway, I decided I'd had enough of being cellularly challenged and phonetically incorrect when I ran out of gas on route #37 halfway between Sears Point and Vallejo and had to hoof three miles to the nearest landline. That experience pushed me over the top and drove me to the phone store where I got myself wirelessed.
As a late arrival on the cellular scene, I was pleasantly surprised by a few things: First, apparently the day of roaming charges, whatever they were, were over. I don't know why but all my friends say that's a great thing. Second, I did get rid of three other phones, so I'm saving money. Even without using "free weekend minutes", I'm making more calls to family on the East Coast, all included in my monthly bill. Third, I can set my phone on vibrate and receive random, unexpected thrills all day long. My phone has three settings: purr, normal and liquefy.
However, all is not rosy in the Land of the Cell. I already mentioned the Keebler touchpad, which even elves consider size-challenged. I have to trim my nails every day because, if my finger slips, I'm suddenly talking to Tokyo. I can't cradle the phone between my neck and shoulder, which means I can't do the dishes while talking to my mother. The couple of times I tried to support my cell in my neck cavity, my ear pushed the disconnect button.
I find it interesting and alarming that American consumers put up with the poor quality phone sound on cellular; something we wouldn't have stood for with Ma Bell. After thirty or forty years of being spoiled by the highest aural standards, people adjusted to poor cell transmission quality in a manner of months and accepted it as the new benchmark. It's not a total surprise, we did the same thing with banking customer service in the 80s … and the 90s, and the 00s.
Another thing, that guy who walks around on TV saying "can you hear me now?" has apparently never been near my house. I get a pretty good signal at Saylor's Landing, the Book Passage in Corte Madera, even inside Mi Pueblo, a little taqueria in Novato. But within a half-a-mile of my house, they patch my calls through a locust convention.
What I need for the cell phone to be worth it are two improvements:
1-biodetectorsthat "sniff" out the caller's mood, and says things like "It's your boss, and he's fuming!" or "Your girlfriend. 80% probability she's calling to ask you to the ballet. Want me to take a message?"
2-Voice command ring terminationso, when I'm where my cell ringing would embarrass me — a funeral, a Broadway play, or anything delicto — I can just whisper, "Down Roamer."
It occurs to me, when that guy asks, "Can you hear me now?" smiles, moves ten paces and asks again, I never hear the answer on the other line. If he were near my house, the answer would be, "Can't hear you because of the locusts."
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Comments: 33
STephanie - land line is what we boaters call a phone with a wire.
Now after five years, I'm hooked. For a woman, it a great security item. Point being, I actually enjoy the convenience.
Great article. Typical JP wonderful style/voice.
The part about the spotty, "Can you here me now?", coverage reminded me of when I lived in Washington. I was at the base of Mt. Rainier and I guess because it was rural and in a valley, the signal was non-existant. I finally did find one spot that worked.......I lived in an A-Frame Cabin and if I scaled to the top of the A and stayed there, it worked. I was big into climbing at the time and had no other phone, so I installed hand holds on the roof like they have on those fake rock walls. It worked well, but is not something I would suggest doing after you have been drinking:) (Thankfully, it was a metal roof, I just slid right down and landed on my deck!)
Cell phones work for me everywhere, now that I am on the Central Coast of Ca. I am not attached to them like others. It is just there when I need it and I keep it on silent except for my family. I can't stand being available 24/7 for the rest of the world!
THIS may be the answer! Now everyone thinks I've got a cell phone but I just had it turned off.
Heh, heh, heh.
JoAnne, oh, that's what that sound is.
Meanwhile, it's a nice life sitting around and getting loaded, I mean, charged.
I have a "play" fuzzy, ugly, green cell phone (kid's toy?) that I pull out of my bag, when all my friends (who we meet with for dinner and to catch up on the news of what's happening in each other's lives) take calls during the dinner.
I guess I can find out what's happening in their lives by listening in on their conversations, but it feels like evesdropping to me. I just set my phone on the table...'nuff said, point made.
I had lousy cell reception when I lived in Sonoma off the plaza.
However, I was rather intrigued by the unexpected thrills you get from yours. I obviously don't have the settings you have. Liquefy? Perhaps that's the reason your battery wore out...?
And yeah, they're defintely not hands free, unless you get the extra paraphernalia. And when you do that, they've really got you hooked. How soon until our bodies will be wired, and not just our homes?
Thanks for another couple of laughs.
And what a trooper, Motorola SSN5725A! She never complained once.
They have their uses, I'm sure, but there are times when I just don't want to be contacted, and there's nothing more scary than a wife who knows you have your phone but are just not answering it...
I'm sure it's an official cause fior divorce.
At least the tele-marketers haven't found the number yet.
If any cell service ever manages to establish a signal here in the north woods, I'll sign with them. The cell phone I have now is useless in my home.
I really like the convenience of cell phones when they work. We got one for our daughter when she got her driver's license. We also got one for my parents, who are eighty-three and often in poor health. Teaching them to use the phone was challenging, but they've managed the essential functions.