Phone Etiquette Peeves

I close my eyes and go to my special place...

Sometime I wonder if I’m the only intelligent person left on the planet, and then I search my house for twenty minutes for the keys that are in my hand. So much for superiority. But at least my ridiculous behavior doesn’t affect anyone else (she said, subtly replacing superiority with judging). In the last couple of weeks I have come across the following phone pet peeves too many times not to comment on them.

Ok, first of all, don’t call me from your cell phone, on speaker, in your car, driving down the freeway with the windows open—and then get pissy with me when I keep saying, “Pardon me?” If you’re going to call me in that context, you can just damn well repeat yourself twelve times in a courteous manner. Oh yeah, and when the line “accidentally” goes dead, I’m going to stick to my story that it’s your bad cell reception.

Why do I have to explain the concept of voicemail in 2012?? Exhibits A through D, your honor:

Me: He’s not available right now. Would you like to leave a voicemail?

Caller: No, I need to talk to him.

Me: He’s still not available. Would you like voicemail?

Caller: But I’m returning his call.

Me: And I’m telling you he’s not available and offering you a chance to leave a message.

Caller: Oh, ok. Can I leave a voicemail?

Me: Hey, great idea.

Me: He’s not available right now. Would you like to leave a voicemail?

Caller: Ok. Tell him that John called. My number is—

Me: Whoa Nelly, hang on there. I’m not the voicemail.

Me: He’s not available right now. Would you like to leave a voicemail?

Caller: How do I do that?

(silence as I fight back all the sarcastic responses I could give)

Me: One moment please.

Me: He’s not available right now. Would you like to leave a voicemail?

Caller: No, can I just leave a confidential voice message on some kind of recorded device, though?

Do I know when someone else might answer their phone? Yes, just as soon as I get my crystal ball back from the repair shop. I love that most people don’t believe in telepathy or the ability to see through walls—unless they call the office and speak to me. I realize that some callers may assume that I am sitting right in front of the person they want to speak to, but I’m here to say: don’t assume. I may be around the corner, down the hall, on another floor, or, let's face it, just don't want to turn my head and look after your rude and demanding call. 

This last type of call is actually fun for me, because I get to pretend I’m rehearsing lines for a badly written sitcom.

Caller: Can I talk to Nancy?

Me: Nancy?

Caller: Marta.

Me: Marta?

Caller: Yes.

Me: You want to speak to Marta?

Caller: I need to talk to her.

Me: Which one?

Caller: Tony.

Me: What?

Caller: I’m calling him back.

Me: Calling who back?

Caller: Yes.

Me: Sir, please stop. You’re hurting my head.

So do me a favor, and before you make a phone call, please be sure that your doctor has given you permission to speak to other human beings.

P.S. Why does this post belong on Occupy Selena? Consider it my on-going demonstration to protest the disparity between the 1% who know how to have a sane phone call and the rest of them…