Call of the Wild

Before I started my (first) Senior year of college I bought myself a phone. I haven’t been swayed by the whole mac craze yet, although I acknowledge its only a matter of time. Because of my lack of familiarity with apple products I opted out of buying an iphone and instead purchased a virgin mobile touch screen monstrosity that has caused me an incredible amount of stress.





A phone should, naturally, be able to make phone calls to other cell phones. But in addition to the occasional dropped call, my phone has this special feature that allows it to answer and hang up simultaneously.
Usually this situation is only an mild annoyance, but often I am unable to call the person back because they are still waiting for me to answer the phone or in the middle of leaving me a message. So I’ve learned to wait about 30 seconds before calling back. It's an art, really.


The thing is, when I call these people back I hardly ever get an answer. I know you’re there- you just called me. “Phone tag” is too jolly of a name for a socially distressing dance. The only clear explanation that allows me to understand how someone who had just called me and is now missing my calls seconds later is this:

They were so upset that I missed their first call that they threw their phone into the sidewalk. Then they ran away, crying.





Apart from being unable to make actual calls, my phone also has its own time schedule of delivering messages. I have received voice mails without missing a call and I receive texts up to three days after they were sent. Sorry your Grandpa died three days ago… I would have cared and texted back if I had known.

My phone has taught me many things, the most important thing is the art of being patient with technology and with the people who use it. I know that when I’m having a conversation there is only so many times I can ask “what?” before just giving up and pretending I got it. I don’t know the exact number yet, but I do know that it is less than five.

Missing a sentence of someones conversation usually works in storytelling. I can catch fragments of your 18 minute tale about how your dog killed your turtle and put the story together myself, but missing a sentence doesn’t work in small talk.

It’s not that I even have relevant conversations to make up for the insuffering inability to hear.


Mom: Hi
Me: hey
Mom: It’s Elmo’s birthday!
Me: What?
Mom: It’s El-mo’s birthday
Me: What??
Mom: ELMO- It’s his birthday!
Me: Wha- oh… okay.
Mom: Yeah
Me: …
Mom: …

Me: Who’s elbow?
Mom: ELMO!!!
Me: OHhhhh. Elmo.
Mom: Yeesh. Yeah, he was born in 1972.
Me: What? Oh.
Mom: Yeah, he’s 14.
Me: Uh…
Mom: What?
Mom: Wait… that’s not right…
Me: Not even close.
Mom: Don’t put this in your blog.
*end call*