et’s talk about a media I really love – phones! I have to carry a phone originally because I ride a bike in the worst city in America to do so – Orlando, Florida. Here, people fly through stop signs, race too fast, corner without looking or signalling, and if they do crush a cyclist, the jury always lets them off. So yes, a couple of times I’ve ended up with a bent bike on the side of the road, calling for the wife to skyhook me home.

Originally I didn’t share the number with anyone. It was my emergency line. Since I had to put $100 in every year to keep it active (a fact the bastard box store salesman lied about), within four years I was carrying $350 on it – that’s how little I used it. But then my train club became more formal, I got more responsibilities and they needed my number. And quickly that surplus drained away. God, but you all love to gab.

But if there is something that really chips my buttocks, it’s those long, long, LOOOOONG messages you leave. Generally, the person will tell me who they are (it’s on the message info) and what time it is (again, it’s on the message info), and then possibly a report on what they are currently doing/watching/eating. Then we get around to the purpose of the call. frequently, this is a rehash of something we discussed earlier (only useful if, possibly, my clone is now taking my calls and didn’t remember yesterday). They might even group two or three points in the message, often points that make no sense to relate – for example, if there is something we need to do next time we meet, why tell me now. Unless there is anything I need to bring with me, well, this knowledge is certainly the booby prize.

I can’t tell you how much this pisses me off. Just say, “It’s Joe. Call me if you can. Not/Somewhat/Very important” CLICK.

I’ve had four minute messages, and once even a ten minute message. It was funny when it happened in Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency. Not so much here.

Don’t loiter and don’t yammer. Speak and click.

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