Oh, it is nice to hear your voice. Not the vague, touchscreen typings that miss your inflections and awkward pauses. And sure, emojis are fun, but they do not compare to that feeling of anticipation and anxiety I get as I prepare for my big solo as I listen to you deliver your trite, predictable message: you're not available right now, you weakly promise to call me back if I leave my name and number. Or, if you haven't taken the time to make your own, I get to hear that lovely woman whisper sweetly:
"Your call has been forwarded to automated voice messaging system. At the tone, please record your message. To leave a call-back number, press five. When you've finished recording, you may hang up or press one for more options." BEEEEEP
Ah - it is sweet. She soothes me. Eases me like an automated conveyor belt into my big moment:
"Hello?" I try, knowing it's useless. You're not there. "Tag, you're it! Ha. Anyway, just trying to get back to you about <whatever it is>. I should be free before 6 to after 9:30 my time tonight. Hope that works for you - otherwise, I guess give me some other times. Oh, and yeah this is Sam. Call me back at 561-577-2308. That's 5,6,1 - 5,7,7 - 2, 3, zero, 8. Thanks! Bye."
Why do I insist on giving my name? You know. You saw my missed call.
I guess it's nice to hope you don't know who it is until I say it. Or maybe you like hearing my voice as much as I like saying it... And my number! Sometimes, I guess it's nice to say, too. Even though you already have it.
It feels nice to go through the motions, leave a message that doesn't shorten itself into a simple "call me back" even when that's all it's really saying. And don't believe the lazy haters - it's also nice to get a voicemail, even if it's from your grandma who clearly just wants you to call her back but is going to take 3 minutes to say that. That labored, predictable message gives me the context for the forthcoming labored, predictable conversation. It primes your expectations and give that warm feeling of being right. It preludes the (hopeful) end of our predictable game of phone tag.
And, oh!, when I hear that dreaded, "We're sorry, the number you called has a voice mailbox that has not been set up yet..." Woe! Woe - the dreaded pause - two beats longer than it has to be! Her soothing voice shuts the whole thing down so heartlessly calm in one, devastating word, "... Goodbye." I am crushed.
Why, in this age of Peak-Podcast, do we not want to hear the ones we love through the screens of our smartphone lovers? Why do we not want to know just how crucial (or not) it is to call back? Why would we rather take more time to open Messages and type out a less-useful follow-up? Why don't we just pick up the phone?
"Your call has been forwarded to automated voice messaging system. At the tone, please record your message. To leave a call-back number, press five. When you've finished recording, you may hang up or press one for more options." BEEEEEP
Ah - it is sweet. She soothes me. Eases me like an automated conveyor belt into my big moment:
"Hello?" I try, knowing it's useless. You're not there. "Tag, you're it! Ha. Anyway, just trying to get back to you about <whatever it is>. I should be free before 6 to after 9:30 my time tonight. Hope that works for you - otherwise, I guess give me some other times. Oh, and yeah this is Sam. Call me back at 561-577-2308. That's 5,6,1 - 5,7,7 - 2, 3, zero, 8. Thanks! Bye."
Why do I insist on giving my name? You know. You saw my missed call.
I guess it's nice to hope you don't know who it is until I say it. Or maybe you like hearing my voice as much as I like saying it... And my number! Sometimes, I guess it's nice to say, too. Even though you already have it.
It feels nice to go through the motions, leave a message that doesn't shorten itself into a simple "call me back" even when that's all it's really saying. And don't believe the lazy haters - it's also nice to get a voicemail, even if it's from your grandma who clearly just wants you to call her back but is going to take 3 minutes to say that. That labored, predictable message gives me the context for the forthcoming labored, predictable conversation. It primes your expectations and give that warm feeling of being right. It preludes the (hopeful) end of our predictable game of phone tag.
And, oh!, when I hear that dreaded, "We're sorry, the number you called has a voice mailbox that has not been set up yet..." Woe! Woe - the dreaded pause - two beats longer than it has to be! Her soothing voice shuts the whole thing down so heartlessly calm in one, devastating word, "... Goodbye." I am crushed.
Why, in this age of Peak-Podcast, do we not want to hear the ones we love through the screens of our smartphone lovers? Why do we not want to know just how crucial (or not) it is to call back? Why would we rather take more time to open Messages and type out a less-useful follow-up? Why don't we just pick up the phone?