It’s been about two and a half years since I first got my cell phone. I did not realize that obtaining a cell phone meant that you would be part of another world. Prior to cellular usage, I was a house line kind of a guy, which meant I was a sucker. The various phones I had that were connected to the typical house line never had caller ID so I picked up no matter what. I felt that every time I picked up the phone it was like playing a game of Russian Roulette: one call could be a friend; another call could be a telemarketer, or a family member you’re trying to avoid. It was always a gamble when it came to picking up the house phone.
When I obtained the cell phone, I found myself in this odd sense of freedom. After programming all the numbers I knew into the little device, I could choose if I wanted to pick up the phone or not. My favorite scenario was when I was working at the video store. I was the assistant manager and the store manager wasn’t the most reliable (she didn’t speak English that well, which was one factor), so when ever I wasn’t working, I usually received a phone call from the store and the topics ranged drastically from a cash drawer is off by eighty dollars, to the power going off, or how to reset the security cameras, to a random worker not showing up to work and asking me to come in.
Having the cell phone made me have the choice of not picking up. Just because I have a phone that is readily accessible does not mean that I am readily accessible. Maybe mentally I am just not ready to have that conversation.
The other situation with cell phones is when a number pops up on your screen and you do not recognize the number. Since I do not give my phone out on a regular basis and there isn’t a directory of cell phone numbers handy, I get a little weirded out when an unknown number makes an appearance on the screen. I know some people will pick up automatically; I, however, wait for a voice message. The unrecognizable number may be a solicitor, a bill collector, or a friend calling from another phone, I just don’t know, hence the patience for a voice message.
Yesterday morning, while at work, my cell phone started to ring and there was a number that I didn’t register at first, but then about five vibrates in I realized it was my landlord calling. It was too late at this point to pick up and I was not sure on why he was calling exactly. I remembered after the phone stopped vibrating that my housemate Eric was going to email him about our moving out this summer and what the situation was with the deposit money we gave to the company to dry out the house. But why would he call me?
After the vibrations ended, there was no sign of a voice message, so he must have done the call and hang up scene. I left my office and did the typical rounds with the fellow coworkers and then came back to my office some time later and there was the sign saying I had a new voicemail. Oh, what did the landlord have to say?
“Hi Peter, it’s [censored]. I just got Adam’s email,” goes to show how well he knows his tenants, especially tenants who caused a lot of damage to one of his houses “and he wanted to know what the situation was. Well, I tell you what the situation is. I lost a lot of money with all this hell you guys put me through.”
You can tell what the tone of the voice message was just from reading the first couple of sentences. He went on for a while listing off the amount of time he spent getting his team out here to reconstruct the house, how there are some money disputes with the company that came out to do the dehumidifying, there are still some unsettled discussions with the home owners insurance, and how he has not been reimbursed for his efforts. He went on another topic on how he tried being a good landlord by not having the insurance people talk to us. And then the last topic was the deposit money for the dehumidifying company.
“And as for the check you wrote for $644, well, just think of that as a generous donation for the hell you put me through!” Say goodbye to that check.
It ended with him saying if I had any questions, I can feel free to call him. Thank you. When the message ended, I looked at my phone, which indicated the length of time I was on that line. It ended with eight minutes and forty seconds. He left a message that went for almost nine minutes (the description I provided was the true Reader’s Digest version). He had a lot to get off his chest and had to talk to somebody. Maybe an email was not enough, and I am pretty sure that my number is the only one he has out of the household.
I imagined this must had been pretty therapeutic for him; knowing that someone’s voice message system is listening to all his problems. That got me thinking about therapy and the world of cell phones. Wouldn’t it be great if there was some hot line you could call where you just rant for however long you want and then you hang up, and hopefully you feel better after all that. There won’t be a call back; the call system is just a technological representation of someone listening to you, and that’s good enough sometimes.
The range of topics would be vastly different, everything from a man named Harold calling in to discuss his suspicions on his wife cheating on him to young Joshua and his new found crush to Miss Powell vocalizing her concerns on the apparent deterioration of human kindness. There will probably be the sickos calling in on how they want to kill somebody or have sex with somebody or have sex with somebody and then kill that somebody. So, there may be some monitoring involved. I haven’t figured out all the details yet.
When I obtained the cell phone, I found myself in this odd sense of freedom. After programming all the numbers I knew into the little device, I could choose if I wanted to pick up the phone or not. My favorite scenario was when I was working at the video store. I was the assistant manager and the store manager wasn’t the most reliable (she didn’t speak English that well, which was one factor), so when ever I wasn’t working, I usually received a phone call from the store and the topics ranged drastically from a cash drawer is off by eighty dollars, to the power going off, or how to reset the security cameras, to a random worker not showing up to work and asking me to come in.
Having the cell phone made me have the choice of not picking up. Just because I have a phone that is readily accessible does not mean that I am readily accessible. Maybe mentally I am just not ready to have that conversation.
The other situation with cell phones is when a number pops up on your screen and you do not recognize the number. Since I do not give my phone out on a regular basis and there isn’t a directory of cell phone numbers handy, I get a little weirded out when an unknown number makes an appearance on the screen. I know some people will pick up automatically; I, however, wait for a voice message. The unrecognizable number may be a solicitor, a bill collector, or a friend calling from another phone, I just don’t know, hence the patience for a voice message.
Yesterday morning, while at work, my cell phone started to ring and there was a number that I didn’t register at first, but then about five vibrates in I realized it was my landlord calling. It was too late at this point to pick up and I was not sure on why he was calling exactly. I remembered after the phone stopped vibrating that my housemate Eric was going to email him about our moving out this summer and what the situation was with the deposit money we gave to the company to dry out the house. But why would he call me?
After the vibrations ended, there was no sign of a voice message, so he must have done the call and hang up scene. I left my office and did the typical rounds with the fellow coworkers and then came back to my office some time later and there was the sign saying I had a new voicemail. Oh, what did the landlord have to say?
“Hi Peter, it’s [censored]. I just got Adam’s email,” goes to show how well he knows his tenants, especially tenants who caused a lot of damage to one of his houses “and he wanted to know what the situation was. Well, I tell you what the situation is. I lost a lot of money with all this hell you guys put me through.”
You can tell what the tone of the voice message was just from reading the first couple of sentences. He went on for a while listing off the amount of time he spent getting his team out here to reconstruct the house, how there are some money disputes with the company that came out to do the dehumidifying, there are still some unsettled discussions with the home owners insurance, and how he has not been reimbursed for his efforts. He went on another topic on how he tried being a good landlord by not having the insurance people talk to us. And then the last topic was the deposit money for the dehumidifying company.
“And as for the check you wrote for $644, well, just think of that as a generous donation for the hell you put me through!” Say goodbye to that check.
It ended with him saying if I had any questions, I can feel free to call him. Thank you. When the message ended, I looked at my phone, which indicated the length of time I was on that line. It ended with eight minutes and forty seconds. He left a message that went for almost nine minutes (the description I provided was the true Reader’s Digest version). He had a lot to get off his chest and had to talk to somebody. Maybe an email was not enough, and I am pretty sure that my number is the only one he has out of the household.
I imagined this must had been pretty therapeutic for him; knowing that someone’s voice message system is listening to all his problems. That got me thinking about therapy and the world of cell phones. Wouldn’t it be great if there was some hot line you could call where you just rant for however long you want and then you hang up, and hopefully you feel better after all that. There won’t be a call back; the call system is just a technological representation of someone listening to you, and that’s good enough sometimes.
The range of topics would be vastly different, everything from a man named Harold calling in to discuss his suspicions on his wife cheating on him to young Joshua and his new found crush to Miss Powell vocalizing her concerns on the apparent deterioration of human kindness. There will probably be the sickos calling in on how they want to kill somebody or have sex with somebody or have sex with somebody and then kill that somebody. So, there may be some monitoring involved. I haven’t figured out all the details yet.
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