Friday, July 15, 2005
Page 11
AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)
Hang Up, and Live
By J’AMY PACHECO
When did cellular phones get to be such an intrusion?
Back in the “old days,” people got by without a phone tucked in a purse or clipped to a belt. Oh, sure, things were a little less convenient, but nobody I knew walked around verbally missing their telephones.
I bought a cell phone in 1996, when my daughter was born. Until then, I didn’t see a need. Besides, cell phones were bigger then, and frankly, I didn’t have room in my purse.
I got the phone because I wanted to be available to whoever was watching my child when I worked. She was a preemie, but even after she grew in size and strength, I wanted to know if anything went wrong when I wasn’t with her.
The only people who had my cell phone number then were my husband, parents, and child care providers. Since my family usually provided that childcare, incoming calls were almost non-existent.
When my daughter entered school and our circle of friends expanded, I gave my number out more frequently. I gave it to the office staff at her school, and to friends who occasionally took her home after school. Even her Brownie Girl Scout leader had it on an emergency contact form. It was comforting to know that if my little girl needed me, she could reach me.
Somewhere along the line, things changed. The Brownie leader, for example, didn’t hesitate to use my “emergency” number to ask me to pick up last-minute supplies or snacks for meetings. An acquaintance at best, she had no way of knowing if I was driving, in a meeting or otherwise engaged, and her calls quickly became a nuisance. (Once, she left her own cell phone at home so she wouldn’t be disturbed on an outing — and her children used her phone’s speed dial to call me, looking for their mother. Grrrr.)
I recently used my cell phone to call my niece. When I heard a strange man’s voice mail greeting, I realized I’d dialed a wrong number and hung up.
Moments later, my cell phone rang. “You called my cell phone,” a man accused when I answered. It took a moment for me to figure out that the person whose voice mail I’d gotten was calling me, demanding to know who I was and why I’d called.
I explained that I had dialed incorrectly, and pointed out that if I’d wanted to speak with him, I would have left a message. He hung up; I shook my head.
When I later mentioned the incident to my niece, she seemed surprised — by my surprise. “I would have done the same thing,” she remarked, blind to the weirdness of that behavior.
I use my cell phone as I imagine it was meant to be used — to call home if I’m running late, to check on my daughter’s well-being, and when necessary, to report on-the-road emergencies. Once, lost in inner city Los Angeles at night, I used it to get directions from my husband, and to shriek frantic lamentations that I was going to die downtown.
THAT is how cell phones are supposed to be used.
If my cell phone rings while I’m doing something and I know the call doesn’t involve my family, I don’t answer it. When I’m at home, I turn it off.
This drives family and friends crazy. One relative will call my house and, if she doesn’t get an answer, try my cell phone. If she gets voice mail there, she’ll leave a caustic message asking why I bother having a cell phone if I’m not going to use it.
Sheesh — does everybody take a telephone into the bathroom?
I have a cell phone for convenience and safety. I never intended for it to make me instantly accessible to anybody who wants to talk to me — whether it’s my relatives, friends, or the children of my daughter’s Girl Scout leader.
I don’t answer my phone in restaurants, church, meetings or movie theaters. I try to avoid using it while driving, and I don’t hesitate to hand a ringing phone to my child in the back seat if I think it needs attention.
Speaking of driving, a recent study found that behind-the-wheel cell phone users are four times more likely to crash their cars than people who just drive — even if they’re using a hands-free device. It seems it’s not just the phone, but the actual conversation that is distracting to motorists.
I have a really good idea. Let’s stop using cell phones to stay connected when we don’t really need to be. Let’s shut up and drive. Let’s turn the darned things off — and get a life!
And for goodness’ sake, if someone calls and doesn’t leave a message, don’t call them back. It might be me and, well, you already know what I have to say…
Copyright 2005, Metropolitan News Company