Yes, I hate the phone. I’ve always hated the phone. I hate land lines and cell phones. I hate people who scream and yell on the phone in the middle of the street. I hate assholes in cars swerving all over the road because they are trying to dial the cell phone. I hate Blackberries. I hate text messaging. I hate the fact that we can sit on the beach on St. John, Virgin Islands and still get a Goddamn phone call from home. I hate that guy that turns on his cell 1.2 seconds after the plane has landed to check his voicemail. I hate those gals on the train that blab about personal gynocological appointments and don’t give a crap if everyone knows about it.
My husband makes his living on the phone, so he is on the phone constantly. Because we both work out of the house, this also means that the phone rings about 200 times a day. It is a point of contention sometimes, but I guess I understand. But, he doesn’t understand why I hate the phone as much as I do. I don’t even really understand it, except for the fact that I used to answer phones as a job for many years. Maybe that has something to do with it? Or, maybe it was because I got put on the spot more than once on the phone in my old marketing job. Maybe it’s because I get nervous on the phone because I can’t be as articulate as I can in an email. I don’t really know. But, I do know that I want that cool new iPhone when it comes out!
Yes, I am a dichotomy. So sue me.