Call Me Unavailable

I guess I've always had the gift of gab.  When I was my daughter’s age, you couldn’t get me off the telephone.  I’d yak away with my favorite girlfriends for an hour at a time, driving my poor parents to distraction because they wanted to know how it could be possible for me to have that much of a life to discuss for that length of time at the age of 13.  

As luck would have it, I landed in a profession that for the past 35 years has required me to talk on the phone a lot – to clients, colleagues in offices around the world, and in the earlier days of my career, the media. Doing all that talking, day in and day out, has tired me out.

Which is why, in the evenings at home, when telemarketers call, it makes me absolutely insane.  You know the drill:  you just sat down for dinner and the phone rings. You’re carrying your pot roast with those pitch-fork things and you know you’ll miss the plate if you make the slightest move to answer that ring tone that’s drilling a hole in your brain. You’re in the middle of a…discussion…with your daughter over what you’ve planned for school lunch the next day, or heatedly reminding each other that the (unnecessary, in her view) tutor is coming tonight because we’ve had to cancel the last 2 sessions at the last minutes, and that costs money, blah, blah, blah.  And the phone rings.

You grab the phone without checking the phone screen and a chirpy young man says, “Can I speak to…”

You know they want money for your alma mater or his, our daughter’s school, the local police auxiliary and Widows and Orphans Fund, clean water, blue skies, your political party’s congressional-senatorial-local-state campaign committee or candidate, Boys or Girls Club, etc., etc.  All worthy causes, many of them you already make donations to, but do they really have to call Saturday afternoon at 4pm, Sunday evening at 9pm, or Christmas Eve at 7pm, or any night –  and every day – when you have more important things to do?

We’re on the “Do Not Call List” which does help to weed out smooth talking crooks (we hope), but honestly, I don’t think it works that well because we still get LOTS of annoying calls.  I hate to say this, but they bring out my evil twin, Rude Jan, who responds with a hyper- exaggerated friendliness that “He isn’t here and I don’t know when he will be!” or growls, “Not tonight” or scolds, “I can’t believe you’re calling on Mother’s Day!” 

My husband has settled into a pattern of just ignoring the phone when it rings, but he will check messages to make sure we haven’t missed a call from someone who matters about something important.  Me?  I’ll let the phone ring, stare at the screen that says “Unavailable” followed by some unrecognizable "444" number, then pick up the phone ready to rumble – or, I’ll stay on the line just long enough for the 5 second pause to expire and a person to speak before I hang it up with a flourish that only I can fully appreciate.  

So, when I’m feeling reasonably sane, or haven’t spent a solid 8 hours at work talking to folks in 3 different time zones, I remind myself that robo-callers are real people most of the time and hard-working, tax-paying Americans.  But if you want to reach me, I suggest you text, email, or call my mobile. Maybe.  Because in our household, when the phone rings, no one’s home.