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My New PhoneOctober 24, 2007 The fuzz:voice ratio on my old phone was getting so high that I could barely make out what people were saying, and everyone who called asked, "What's the matter with your phone?" I don't use the phone all that much, and since I moved into this apartment and acquired wireless Internet access, whole days go by when I don't use it at all. Maybe I don't really need a phone? Aside for those who don't realize what a closet Luddite wannabe I am: I'm talking landlines here. I don't have a cell phone. I only know to call my phone a landline because I hang out with people whose lingo is up-to-date. I have, however, progressed to the point where I can imagine circumstances in which I would want a cell phone: driving cross-country, for instance, or participating in a big demonstration. In that case I might even spring for a cell phone that takes pictures. For now -- avert! The "cell" in "cell phone" might as well stand for "prison cell" or at least "house arrest." They're like the harness-and-leash arrangements that parents put on toddlers to take them to the mall. My doddering hasn't reached the second-toddler stage yet, so I'll pass. Anyway, I had to call the automated line that one of my corporate clients thoughtfully provides so that freelancers and suppliers can check on their overdue invoices. Mine from 9/12/07 hadn't been paid yet, and with this outfit if it hasn't been paid within 30 days it's probably lost. This reminded me why I really do need a phone. So I borrowed a phone from my neighbor to verify that the phone, not the phone line, was at fault. It was. Yesterday I went down to Radio Shack -- formally known as Vineyard Electronics but rarely called that -- and bought myself a new phone. It now sits at my left hand, on the small easy chair that serves both as deskside table and as transit station for clothing that's too clean for the laundry but too dirty for drawer or closet. Nestled among papers, reference books, and laundry, the new phone looks fastidious and official, as if it's just shown up to organize my life and realized that this won't be an easy two-hour job. This intimidated me at first, then I bravely laid the instruction book across my lap, figured out which occult symbols meant up, down, stop, and start, and set about telling the phone what to do. Now it tells me the correct time (at least Morgana V thinks it's correct) and date, and it tells incoming callers that they can leave messages for Susanna, Rhodry, or Allie at the sound of the tone. I was briefly flummoxed by the mishmash of figures in the display window: I'd set the damn time, why couldn't I read the numbers? Turned out the mishmash was on a piece of transparent tape. I peeled it off: voilà, I could tell the time. I can also hear what people are saying. The first two callers were both automatons. I hung up on them as soon as they finished saying, "Hello! My name is Heather" (they were both named Heather) and so don't know whether they were trying to help me with my mortgage (hah) or my credit card debt (none). My first outgoing call was to the automaton that answers the phone at my corporate client's missing invoice hotline. After I got home from the barn, a friend called and we had A Conversation. All in all, I'm pleased with my new phone. It works like the old phone did when it was new. The new phone, however, is different. The new phone is actually two phones. Yep, I now have two phones in an apartment the size of two big foaling stalls. One's cordless. I've never had a cordless phone before. I've never been able to walk around as if I'm babbling to myself, never been able to say stuff like "What was that again? I must have gone out of range." The symbiont phone sits in its charger next to my editing chair, which is where I work when the job in residence is on paper, not screen. Oh wow, just what I needed! A device that will save me walking six steps when the phone rings! How long before I turn into a full-fledged couch potato? I tell myself I'm safe as long as I don't have a TV or a couch, and as long as the only remote in residence is the one for my boom box. The first time the phone rang, it rang in two places. Place sounded like a newsroom with deadline approaching. I pushed a bunch of buttons and turned the symbiont's ringer off. The cordless has a belt clip. If I wore a belt, I could talk on the phone while stirring soup.
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