Life, in the “old” days, as I envision them in my imagination, was a whole lot more simple. For example, if someone were lucky enough to have a telephone, he/she only had to talk to one person at a time. Of course, if he or she was on a “party line,” there may have been curious listeners getting an earful as they gathered news for the gossip mill, but I digress.
Today, Americans are known for their multi-tasking. Let me rephrase that. American women are known for this trait. American men, on the other hand, can only do one thing at a time. That’s the way their minds are engineered. Stick to the task and finish it. Go on to the next task. Actually, an admirable trait. Yet, I still digress.
What am I trying to say here, anyhow?
Doggone it! I am so frustrated with call waiting, I could spit. That would not be lady-like to act like a baseball player, now would it? It’s just that when I am calling someone, and my phone minutes are evaporating into thin air, as I wait for the call-ee to ascertain who is on the other line … well, it just drives me nuts! We are victims of our own technology! Or, rather, since I am the caller, and not the call-ee, I am a victim of their technology. Rats!
To make a long rant a little longer, can we discuss the nut calls, for a moment? I’ve mentioned some of the former contacts of this kind, on previous occasions, so begging your forgiveness, I’ll clue you in as to the identity of a few others.
“Citizens Bank” called last week to inquire about our account. Good of the “worker” to be still at his desk and concerned about my non-existent account, at 7 p.m. on a Friday night. I found out this week that there is a “phishing” scam going on right now, and people are posing as bank employees to get vital information so that they can access YOUR account.
Then there was a dun call from a group that supports abortion and thought that I would possibly give them money. Ha! Not in this lifetime!
Even a university rep called to see if I might like to attend the alumni reunion and go to a hockey game and football game. Fat chance. I am not a spectator sports fan, unless it is watching ice-skating finals on television (but that doesn’t cost several hundred dollars).
Long ago, my late father wisely told me that if a man gave a dollar to every potentially good cause, during his lifetime, he would soon be impoverished himself. While he, himself, was an exceedingly generous soul, I can see his point.
There are the perennial organizations that ask for money, in one way or another. We have the Save the Rain Forest Society, Cure Restless Leg Syndrome Research Group, and the Society for the Promotion of Pollywog Health … and many others. You get the point. I could go on and on. Some groups are subtle and raise money through mail solicitations. Non-profits have to do fundraising. When I am home, I do not want calls from them, worthy though they may be.
The trouble today is this, you simply don’t know – “Who is calling you?” If it is a voice you don’t recognize, it could be that of a criminal. Never, ever provide personal or financial information on the phone!
I am beginning to think that I’d like to take my computer and go live in a cave, without a phone. I’d like an ambient cave, though, with wall paintings of bison, smeared on with pigments, by ancient people, and if possible, not too many cave rats or bats. I know it’s asking a lot.
Somehow, I’d like to escape those who, with a push of a button, continually rob me of minutes of my life, while I wait for them to take a call from someone else who is seemingly more important than me! There’s a lot to be said for being polite. There’s a lot to be said for doing one thing at a time. There’s a lot to be said for bringing back the passenger pigeon. On that note, dear reader, I shall leave you to ponder the situation.
Patricia Cummings
a jewelry holder
